


Dropping Crosses

by kuroashi



Category: One Piece
Genre: Drinking, Emetophobia, Fighting, Frottage, Lemon, Lime, M/M, Masturbation, SoloM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroashi/pseuds/kuroashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like most of the crew, Zoro had not really had the most functional of upbringings - though it could be said that he'd contributed to the problem in his own small ways. Namely, his refusal to see his body as anything more than a weapon. Sanji, on the other hand, was all too willing to enjoy his body, but rather lacked the healthy self-direction required to do so in the most fulfilling ways. </p><p>Which, curiously, made it a damn good thing they'd found each other. </p><p>(Or: in which Zoro is an oblivious boob unable to take a hint even from his own body, and Sanji is so far in the closet he’s basically in Narnia. Pre-timeskip. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is far too long for a first chapter (especially for what was intended to be just a ficlet). I should've probably split it into two chapters, but that's what sane people do and I am clearly not one of them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> P.S. The emetophobia tag is a trigger warning for discussions of vomiting; there are no actual discussions of the phobia in this fic. Other tags will be added as they become relevant. I'm aiming for this fic to be around 3-4 chapters long, but I'll see how I go.

Zoro couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it’d started.

In retrospect, it’d probably started some time ago, when he was a kid or something and had been too focused on other areas of his body to notice anything wrong. It had never seemed like such a big deal, and until recently he’d done a pretty good job of ignoring it without there being any particular repercussions.  

But lately… that something had been _very_ out of whack, and he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was. It had become worse ever since the fucking ero-cook had joined the crew and had been intensifying slowly. So surely it was only happening because he was just more pissed off than he usually was, and he only had to blow off some steam by beating the shit out of their resident chef to quell it. However, doing so never seemed to alleviate this perplexing knot of tension he had, which in turn just made him even more frustrated. Worse still, whenever he settled down to meditate there was always a small, niggling feeling at the back of his mind that all was not well, which was counter-productive to say the least. It couldn’t be the scar across his chest, which had stopped throbbing and hindering his wider arm movements some time ago, because it had healed well according to Chopper. Now it just served as a humiliating reminder of his defeat and subsequent renewal of enthusiasm to be better, to fight harder, and get stronger.

Nope, he had no idea what was going on. Just that occasionally, he felt an odd pulling sensation in the pit of his belly. It was really annoying! Sometimes it cropped up when he exercised, and he pretty much always felt it when he was fighting with the cook. It used to happen at night, too; stirring him from strange dreams he could never seem to remember upon waking, but which for some inexplicable reason left him with his pants sticking to his crotch. It had happened once or twice since the cook had joined too, after a couple of particularly bad fights. Yet, for all its apparent association with violence, it never seemed to bother him in serious battles… maybe there was something to that?

For the first time, Zoro cursed himself for not being the introspective type. He was actually pretty instinctive, for the most part. Thinking too much often just led to the creation of more problems, so as a rule he avoided doing it any more than was really necessary. But no matter how many push-ups or pull-ups he did or how many weights he added to the barbell, he was still no further to figuring out what was bothering him. So he conceded, grudgingly, that this was a problem with a resolution that did not involve running a sword through it.

He sighed as he lowered the absurdly large weight to the ground with a dull thud and wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag, before he tossed the cloth angrily to the other side of the store room. Another unsatisfying work out. This was getting beyond ridiculous.

It wasn’t even like it was a huge deal! It wasn’t painful, he wasn’t bleeding, and he didn’t even have any bones poking out of him! He’d experienced far worse than this. This was just a strange, queasy, pulling knot in the pit of his belly that seemed to drag him towards… something. Usually something violent. Of late, it had been pulling him towards Sanji, though he couldn’t begin to understand why. The problem was that to Zoro, pain or tension of any kind was just another obstacle on his path to facing Mihawk, and so far, the swordsman was proud of the leaps he was making in overcoming every challenge thrown at him since that fateful day he had run into his foe outside the Baratie.

Zoro also knew that even small problems could be the difference between life and death in a serious battle, and as far as he was concerned, any part of his body which did not obey him had no place being attached to him. So he was either going to have to try and fix whatever the problem was, or he was going to have to find a way of detaching it from his body altogether.

But then… his lower abdomen and crotch _were_ kind of important for his survival. He shook his head. No, self-disembowelment didn’t sound particularly conductive to becoming the world’s best swordsman.

With a great sigh, he conceded that he was going to have to sail into some unfamiliar waters here.

He was going to have to do some Thinking.

*

As usual, dinner that evening was their crew’s personal brand of rowdy that would probably be classed as a fistfight in most people’s minds. Zoro spent at least ten minutes wrestling a huge turkey leg out of Luffy’s grasp, growling at him like a dog. Luffy growled right back, even as he tried to bite into the meat that Zoro was tussling out of his grasp through a stream of expletives. While Zoro was distracted, the captain stretched his arm over the table to snatch a fancifully latticed pastry from a basket that was sitting between his first mate and Nami, right before the latter picked it up for herself.

“LUFFY!” Nami screamed, her hand still suspended in mid-air and her expression switching from charming to furious in the blink of an eye. “That was the last one, asshole!”

Sanji was already rounding the table from where he’d been pouring Nami and Vivi glasses of bubbly pink wine. He had an equally irate expression on his face. “Put it back you greedy shit, Nami-san and Vivi-chan haven’t—” he growled, but it was too late. Luffy’s arm had snapped back and he’d already shoved the entire thing into his mouth and swallowed it whole by the time Sanji’s foot connected with the side of his head.

As he toppled to the floor, Zoro managed to snatch the turkey leg from his grasp and take a huge bite out of the remaining meat. Luffy’s crash to the floor caught the attention of Usopp, Chopper and Carue, who were at the other end of the table. Usopp had been shooting onigiri into Chopper’s open mouth with his slingshot, but they were now both laughing hysterically at Luffy struggling to get his stretched, ball-like body up from the floor, where he was floundering like a tortoise on its back.

“Goddamn bottomless pit…” Sanji muttered to himself as he walked over to the still-warm oven and pulled out a fresh batch of pastries. Without thinking, Zoro’s gaze drifted over to the cook’s bent over form. The cook, at first glance, had seemed pretty bony to Zoro, so it had come as a surprise to him when he’d first seen the power of Sanji’s kicks. Unlike him, Sanji’s muscles were lean and hidden away until just the right moment.

Not that Zoro had noticed or anything.

He pulled his eyes away from the blond just as he turned around, carrying a warm tray in his oven-mitt clad hand over to where Nami and Vivi were sat.

“Fresh from the patisserie, my dears~!” Sanji swooned, bowing deeply and presenting them with the tray, which he set down on the table. He turned moon-eyed as the girls thanked him.

“God, you’re such a simpering twit,” Zoro commented quietly around a mouthful of meat.

“Eh? What was that, Marimo?” Sanji said, Nami and Vivi forgotten.

Zoro swallowed what was in his mouth and spoke again. “I said, why’d you have to be such a simpering twit?” he asked.

“Oh, where did you learn such a big word, shithead? I wouldn’t have thought you’d have such a big vocabulary since you’re incapable of not talking with your mouth full,” Sanji sniped back, pulling off his oven mitt and slamming it on the table dramatically. 

“A little rich coming from your foul mouth, shit-cook,” Zoro snapped. “I’m not surprised neither of those two wants to kiss you. Must be like licking the bottom of an ashtray.”

“I didn’t know you thought about that kind of thing, but I’m flattered,” Sanji said teasingly, tapping his toe on the floor behind him in warning. The sound was like music to Zoro’s ears.

Apparently, it was also a warning signal, as Usopp and Chopper took that cue to leave. They giggled as they helped a still-floundering Luffy up and rolled him out through the kitchen door.

“Now, I’m sure you don’t need to resort to—” Vivi began, looking worried.

“Are you seriously still trying to mediate?” Nami deadpanned, pointing over her shoulder at the two glowering men and licking icing sugar from the fingertips of her other hand. “It’s pointless with these two. They _want_ to fight. I told you,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

Vivi blushed a bit and sighed in resignation.

“Thanks, Sanji-kun! That was delicious!” Nami said cheerfully to Sanji, who was grinning lecherously at them, and led Vivi out by the hand with Carue in tow before swordsman and cook turned the kitchen into a war zone once again.

“Looks like it’s my turn to help clean up,” Zoro said, dropping the bone onto his plate with a loud clatter and stretching his arms over his head with an arrogant grin. “This should be a piece of cake.”

“Hmph, I’ll _make_ a goddamn cake out of you, shitty swordsman,” Sanji sniped.

Zoro didn’t bother with another comeback; instead he drew Wado Ichimonji. In a flash, the interaction descended into a violent melee that sent dishes crashing to the floor and stray bones and scraps tumbling off the table. Sanji brought his leg up to block Wado’s blade with his shin and gasped as his back hit the wall. There was a searing pain in his leg, but it was nothing compared to what he’d experienced in the heat of battle.

“Done already, shit-cook?” Zoro sneered, his darkened eyes hawk-like beneath his heavy brow.

Sanji’s brow creased as he grimaced with the strain. “Not hardly,” he grunted in response. Then, in a movement so quick that Zoro barely had time to register what was happening, Sanji’s other leg had swung out from beneath him and delivered a roundhouse kick to Zoro’s right shoulder. He went crashing into the kitchen cabinets loudly and after a grunt of pain, Zoro blinked dazedly as he picked himself up. He was panting a little, but to his satisfaction, Sanji was too.

The cook was chewing the end of his cigarette nervously.

“Heh,” Zoro laughed, “you’re holding back. Aw. I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Shithead. I just don’t want my fucking kitchen cupboards ruined,” Sanji spat back through a stream of smoke, and flicked the ash onto a plate behind him while he shifted his weight from one foot to the other threateningly.

Zoro didn’t miss a beat. He shot forward. Once again, Wado came into contact with Sanji’s leg, but this time, Zoro had the upper hand. He drew Yubashiri fast and aimed the blade at Sanji’s other leg. Just in time, Sanji dodged it; he leapt, light-footed as always, into the air and onto the very edge of the blade, before he launched himself over Zoro’s left shoulder and flipped his body to kick him into the table.

With a grunt, Zoro skidded across the table top, knocking several more dishes to the floor. His shirt was going to be filthy. He was about to leap off the table when Sanji suddenly laid a foot on the swordsman’s crotch and applied just enough pressure to keep the other man where he was.

“Argh—you fucker!” Zoro ground out, the painful pressure on his nuts keeping him totally anchored to the table. “Get your goddamn perverted foot off my balls, you ballerina prick!”

Sanji chuckled and blew out a stream of smoke. “Hm… nah. Not until you apologise, Marimo-kun.” He shoved a hand in his pocket and gazed down at his comrade with an arrogant smirk on his face.

Zoro spat at him.

Sanji frowned down at the wad of spit on his jacket with a scowl, but kept the pressure on the other man’s crotch. He pulled a napkin out of his pocket and wiped it away delicately. “Not gentlemanly at all,” he mumbled with a patronising smile.

“Just taking a leaf out of your book, asshole,” Zoro spat through a grimace, and swung one leg around to kick the other man in the lower back hard. The cook went crashing to the floor and Zoro stood, promising himself that he would do an extra two thousand one handed push-ups tomorrow for letting the blond get the upper hand like that. Glancing down, he realised that the pulling sensation in his crotch was returning, and resolved to finish the fight as quickly as possible. He couldn’t fight with his focus directed downward like that.

“Oi, done already, cook?” Zoro asked as he watched the blond struggle to roll over onto his back.

“Bastard,” the cook hissed, and slowly stood back up again. He went to aim a kick at the swordsman’s face, but Zoro was too fast for him. He got behind Sanji and swiftly pinned him to the wall, holding Wado’s blade against the back of his neck and digging his knee into Sanji’s back.

Sanji laughed bitterly. “Jealous fucker,” he breathed, barely above a whisper.

“Hm? What was that?” Zoro asked. He was standing so close to the other man, and his hardening cock was just a hair’s breadth away from the chef’s ass. Flicking his eyes down, Zoro couldn’t help but look at their close proximity.

“I said, you’re jealous,” Sanji spat.

“Jealous of what?”

“My attention towards the girls,” the cook laughed.

“Why the fuck would I be jealous?” Zoro grumbled.

Sanji didn’t say anything in response, he just panted with the strain of his position.

“You think I’m jealous of how you drool over them like a hormonal schoolboy? The way you make a fool out of yourself while they take advantage of you? Don’t make me laugh, shit-cook,” Zoro muttered venomously. “I don’t want any special attention from you,” he added, before pulling away from the blond and letting him drop to the ground.

Sanji gasped as he was released and slumped to the floor. He listened to the swordsman sheath his swords and then stomp out of the galley without another word, before he stood once again, ran a hand through his hair and lit up another cigarette. He took a deep drag of it and then angrily kicked one of the chairs in frustration.

*

There were not many things that Roronoa Zoro could not overcome. One of them was his complete and total lack of direction. However, it also seemed that his subconscious mind was among them. His dreams were fucking bizarre and impossible to make sense of, and he rarely remembered them – not that this was particularly problematic; after all, a lot of people couldn’t remember their dreams to little harmful effect. Apparently, he was one of them.

Of course, this didn’t mean that he didn’t occasionally have his moments though - like the one he was having right now.

There was a strangely pleasant sensation creeping up his spine; it came from the pit of his belly and spread outwards languorously. In a swirl of strange, deep colours that clouded his vision, he could just about make out the shape of a man before him. He was above Zoro and naked, and despite the fact that the swordsman couldn’t see his face, he could tell that he was panting. In the strange, dream-warped vision, he couldn’t tell exactly how far away he was; just that he was looming above him and that Zoro’s lower abdomen was doing its usual disobedient squirm.

He shifted and tried to sit up, but his body just slumped back heavily. That was strange. The figure above him smirked, and Zoro realised why he couldn’t move. Looking to either side of his body, he could see that his arms were pinned either side of his head by two hands gripping his wrists. Strangely, he felt a jolt of pleasure, and then all of a sudden the other man was pressed close to his body, their flesh sticking together hotly.

“Struggle all you want, shitty Marimo,” laughed the man lowly, “but my arms are stronger than you think.”

Things got a little blurry after that. At some point, Zoro was fighting the man, who was apparently Sanji, though why they were both naked was beyond him. He couldn’t follow of much of it as he lost track of time, and it was only when he felt pain erupt over the top of his head that he actually stirred from sleep, albeit slightly.

“Shut up, asshole. It’s four in the morning. I have to get up to make breakfast in a few hours,” said Sanji’s grumbled voice from above him somewhere. He was sleeping in a hammock and his leg was dangling over the edge of it near Zoro’s head.

Still half asleep, Zoro hummed in annoyance. “Put some fuckin’ clothes on, perverted cook,” Zoro mumbled back, and turned his head away from the other man.

Confused, Sanji glanced down at his crewmate with his brow furrowed. “Eh? What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

Zoro blinked a few times into the shadowy room as he woke up fully. He jerked his head up properly, yawned, and looked around him. “Oh, it was—” he said softly, but then registered what exactly had happened and thought better of completing his sentence. His ears went pink. “Nothing. Go back to sleep,” he finished curtly, and rolled over on the sofa to face the wall.

He heard Sanji sniff and turn over himself, but in the darkness he didn’t see the suspicious glance he gave him beforehand.

Zoro huffed out a frustrated sigh and tried to block out the rather obscene images which were gradually coming back to his now wide-awake mind. He cursed them as he realised that his pants were wet and sticky once again.

That was it. Enough was enough.

*

He didn’t have a hope in hell of getting back to sleep after the dream (or rather, nightmare) he’d had, so Zoro had risen even before the cook to take a very cold shower. He rinsed his discarded pants in the sink before he dumped them in the laundry, and then returned to the men’s quarters to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of loose training pants and his haramaki, forgoing the underwear and shirt, and pulled on a pair of boots before stomping out again to begin his training for the day.

After having been out on deck briefly that morning, it seemed like they were nearing Arabasta. It was certainly hot enough. According to Nami, however, it would still be a couple of weeks until they arrived, and they could probably use a stopover at an island to restock before they got there.

Breakfast was quiet for a change; it seemed the heat intensified everyone’s fatigue, and the rest of the day floated by in a lazy, halcyon drift. Sanji was fawning like an annoying, camp vulture over Nami, who was sunbathing in apparently the most Spartan swimsuit she owned, and Vivi, who was lounging in a much more modest kaftan beside her and stroking Carue's feathers gently. Luffy was perched on the figurehead while Usopp and Chopper tampered with some new kind of explosive. Zoro trained for most of the morning, and after lunch he was taking his weights down to the store room (where he stored the larger ones, to Sanji’s chagrin), when he saw Chopper emerging from the bathroom.

“Oi, Chopper,” he began, standing up straight. “Can I, er- can I get some advice? The medical kind, I mean,” he asked, feeling a bit awkward.

“Sure!” Chopper replied cheerfully. “But would you mind if we talked somewhere below deck? The heat is really getting to me.”

Zoro smiled in endearment as he noticed that the fur on the doctor’s face was a bit wet with water he must’ve just splashed onto it. “Okay.”

They made their way down to the men’s quarters, where it was considerably quieter and cooler. Zoro slumped down onto the couch he’d been sleeping on last night while Chopper made his way down the mast.

“So what’s the problem?” the reindeer asked as he hopped onto a hammock and swung his legs back and forth playfully.

“Well, it’s—it’s kind of weird. I don’t know how to explain it,” Zoro replied, his cheeks a bit pink.

“Well, where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt, it’s just weird,” the swordsman said, shifting a bit.

“Okay… weird how?”

“I don’t know- I just… I keep having weird dreams.”

When Zoro didn’t elaborate, Chopper spoke again. “What kind of dreams?”

“Scary ones. Well, not- not scary exactly, but… confusing. Like I don’t know what’s going on,” he explained.

“Go on.”

“I keep dreaming that I- well, that I’m—you know…”

Chopper cocked his head to one side and furrowed his brow in confusion.

“—where I’m fighting people… naked,” he finally said uncomfortably.

The doctor kept a straight face for a couple of seconds, but then he started giggling.

“Oi, oi! Aren’t you supposed to be professional?” Zoro asked, annoyed.

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s a funny mental picture,” Chopper laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “So… that’s it?”

“Well… no,” he continued, looking away from his friend and flicking a stray speck of dust from his shoulder as he tried to find the words. “I keep waking up with… stuff, all over my crotch.”

“Stuff?”

“You know… _stuff._ Sticky stuff, I don’t know what it’s called,” Zoro said quickly.

“Oh! I see. So… you’re having wet dreams?” Chopper replied.

“What are those?” Zoro asked.

Chopper blinked in surprise. “You don’t know what they are?”

Zoro shook his head.

“What so… you’ve never…” Chopper asked, blushing a little bit.

“Never what?” Zoro huffed, folding his arms impatiently.

Chopper coughed. He had to remind himself sometimes that many of his crewmates were, like so many children in the world, orphans, and estranged from any loving family unit that would be able to explain such basic concepts to them. So, with an intake of breath, he began to explain. “Zoro… in most humans of your age, there are certain… urges that everyone experiences. I guess that occasionally, you get people who _don’t_ feel them, but…” Chopper began, stumbling over his words. It didn’t help that Zoro was staring at him in confusion with one eyebrow quirked.

“What are you talking about?”

Finally, Chopper stopped trying to be delicate about the conversation. “Zoro, did anyone ever tell you about- well, ‘the birds and the bees’?”

Zoro just looked more confused. “The what now?”

“Sex, Zoro. Sex,” Chopper said bluntly. “You do know how babies are made, right?”

Zoro squirmed. “Yeah, of course I do. I’m not a total idiot.”

“Then how do you not know anything about wet dreams? And you don’t masturbate?” he asked, blushing.

“I don’t do that,” Zoro replied huffily. “I don’t get affected by that kind of stuff. Never have.” Not like some people he could mention...

Chopper sighed, knowing that arguing with Zoro’s absolutist logic was a waste of time, even when it couldn’t be clearer that he was wrong. He was far too stubborn about his principles sometimes. Instead, the doctor decided to put things in terms that would hopefully help to fix the ‘problem’ without infringing on their resident moss-head’s rigid view of himself too much.

“Well, whatever. In any case, what you’re experiencing is totally normal, though it won’t bother you so much if you- well, if you masturbate every now and then. Or if, you know, you have sex—safely, I might add,” Chopper explained. “It’s just another bodily process, Zoro-kun. It’s really nothing to be ashamed of.”

With that, he hopped down and climbed the mast of the ship to the deck, leaving Zoro to his thoughts once more.

Hm. Zoro thought. Masturbate? He’d never done that before, though he could recall other boys from the dojo talking about it when he was thirteen or so. He could also remember them talking about girls, their first kisses and all the other ordinary garden variety teenage boy stuff, but Zoro had switched off from all that early on – he had more important things to think about. His body was made to become the world’s best swordsman; it was a weapon, not a tool of seduction.

It was with this in mind that he decided to disregard Chopper’s advice and try to overcome these ‘urges’ through pure force of will. Hell, maybe it could even be a good project for him to work on during those long, boring stretches of time at sea when there was nothing else to do.

Suddenly, Zoro was stirred from his thoughts by the sound of Luffy’s shrill voice.

“ISLAND!!!”

Shaking his head, he stood up and pulled on a white vest before climbing the mast to the deck.

*

According to Nami, this island was not marked on the map, but luckily Vivi had a pretty good idea of where they were.

“Devil’s Belly?” Luffy asked when Vivi had told them its name. “WOOHOO!! Sounds like a riot! Ah- but, why isn’t it on the map?”

“Because they don’t want people like me to find it,” Vivi replied, peering out over the waves at the small bump on the horizon which was slowly getting bigger. “The island is pretty hard to navigate given the waters around it, anyway; people usually avoid it because of the aggression of the creatures that live in its shallows.”

“Wh-what kind of creatures?” Usopp asked, looking terrified.

“Giant crabs, according to an Admiral I met at a banquet when I was a little girl,” said Vivi sweetly.

“Gi-giant crabs?” Chopper squawked.

Luffy was licking his lips. “Sounds tasty!”

Sanji was already thinking of what he could make with one of those. “Hm, sounds like we could be having Crabs Benedict for breakfast tomorrow,” he said, grinning.

Zoro jumped a bit. He’d been looking out over the side of the ship and hadn’t realised how close the cook was behind him. His drawling voice sent a shiver down Zoro’s spine, which was weird. He shook it off and instead prepared himself for kicking some ass.

As it turned out, the giant crabs were not simply gigantic, they were _gargantuan_. Usopp had screamed and hidden behind Zoro the second he saw one of the mammoth beings, which were easily as wide as Merry was long. Their captain, however, made quick work of the first one to try attacking their ship, and it seemed like this sent a message of sorts to the others as they were not bothered by many more afterward. Unfortunately Zoro didn’t get to fight a single one. He pouted as he perched on the railings outside of the galley, sulking.

“Oi, oi, don’t be put out,” Sanji teased from behind him where he was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen and smoking while he watched Usopp and Luffy lower the anchor. “If this place is as pirate infested as Vivi-chan says it is, it shouldn’t be too long before you find someone else to mince into a purée,” he commented, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hm, just be glad it’s not you, pervert cook,” Zoro scowled, trying to push down the gnawing temptation to glance down at the cook’s narrow hips and long, strong legs, which were today not hidden away by his usual black slacks. Instead he was wearing a pair of denim shorts which stopped just above his knobbly knees. He was also wearing a loose blue tie over a tight, brightly coloured shirt that was open at the top, revealing his pasty chest where sat a gold chain. Zoro snapped his head back around to face the sea when he realised he’d looked anyway.

“Tch. Like I’d give you the chance,” Sanji grumbled, apparently not noticing the swordsman’s gaze.

With that, Zoro jumped down and off the ship onto the pier. The rest of the crew followed, excited to discover what the hidden island had to offer.

It soon became clear why Devil’s Belly was such a well-kept secret. It was quite possibly the most lawless and frenzied port they’d ever dropped anchor in, which made them all grateful for Usopp’s clever idea to booby trap the ship just in case. Just getting away from the harbour proved to be a struggle – there was an abundance of women at the docks of all shapes and sizes who were offering a plethora of physical pleasures for the right price. Zoro was more than happy to just let the cook waste all his money on them, but Nami wasn’t so keen considering that Sanji had most of the food budget. She clocked him round the head and they made their way to the middle of the town.

It was bustling with pubs, bars and restaurants of all kinds. Pirates fought in the streets; on every corner there were fistfights and women squawked and laughed as they were grabbed, picked up and chased around buildings. The combined smell of alcohol, smoke and blood was pungent in the air, but on the soft breeze also wafted the sweet aroma of roasting meat and fish too. Goats and chickens wondered the streets eating scraps off the floor and sniffing at people passed out in gutters. Music could be heard playing in pubs and bursting out of doors that exploded open as drunkards and cut-throats were tossed out onto the dusty street outside. Glass broke, swords clashed, guns fired and people screamed and laughed and drank all around them. It truly was a sight to behold.

“Su _gei_!” Luffy bellowed as he watched the goings on, and it wasn’t long before his nose caught the scent of some kind of barbeque and soon began following it.

“Oi, Luffy!” Nami called as she trotted after him, “we can’t stay here for long. We have to get Vivi back as soon as possible and—”

“Why are you even bothering?” laughed Zoro. “You know he’s just going to do whatever he wants anyway.”

Zoro was right. The rest of the crew followed their captain to the main square of the town, where he lost the scent of the barbecue because there were so many other restaurants. Instead, they pushed open the swinging doors of a restaurant called ‘Crab House’, dodging the many crowds of rowdy pirates who were stuffing their faces, drinking and fighting all around the place. They found a large, vacant table upstairs, where they were soon served by a rather drunk waitress.

“There’s a shpecial on the – _hic_ — spicy crab noodles and – _hic_ – the fish curry and the – _hic_ – crab ice cream,” she slurred, swaying slightly.

“Uh, okay—” Nami said, while Usopp and Zoro did their best to hide their laughter. “We’ll have eight of each, please.”

“And eight bottles of grog,” Zoro grunted as the waitress stumbled away.

Sanji kicked him under the table. “Did you leave your manners on the ship, moss-head? That’s no way to talk to a lady,” he sneered.

Zoro flipped him off.

“I hope she brings our food over in one piece,” Usopp laughed.

“I hope she doesn’t drink all the booze before it gets here,” Zoro added, glancing over his shoulder at the goings on, scanning for a potential fight he could get involved in for no reason.

“Na~mi~!” Luffy cried, “I also wanted the crab burgers _and_ the crab gumbo _and_ the giant crab cakes _and_ the—” he nattered, clanging his knife and fork together.

“It hasn’t even been that long since we had lunch! Plus, we need to restock at this island. We can’t spend it all in one sitting like you usually do!” she screeched.

“Yeah, Luffy. We’re going into a desert climate. I need to make sure you all get a water-rich diet, especially since Chopper-kun can’t handle the heat as well as we can,” Sanji drawled, pointing to their doctor who was munching on breadsticks.  

“That’s right. I also don’t want you to start any fights here. We need to get Vivi back safely and as soon as possible, so I don’t want us to be stopping here for too long—”

“I’M THE CAPTAIN, DAMNIT!” Luffy cried, thumping the table with both fists. “I WANT TO EAT CRAB ISLAND!!”

“Oi, Luffy! We’ve still got that huge crab back on the Merry. That’ll feed us for a couple of days at least,” Sanji said, blowing a stream of smoke out of his nose.

“How much longer is the food going to take?” Zoro wondered aloud over the sound of Luffy’s stomach rumbling.

Just as he spoke, the waitress returned with a tray carrying several bottles of alcohol. Sanji swooned over her, but she barely registered his voice and walked off while he was just launching into a crooning chat-up speech. She set them down on the table before she left though, and immediately Zoro popped the cork of one and began drinking through his laughter at the cook’s misfortune.

Their food came not long after and they began eating ravenously.

“Oi, oi, slow down! I’m starting to think I’m not feeding you all properly,” Sanji pouted as he chewed and watched Luffy, Usopp and Chopper begin to inhale their food.

“But lunch was _three hours ago_ ,” Luffy moaned as he shovelled forkfuls of crabmeat into his mouth.

“Yeah, we need an in-between lunch!” Chopper chirped, a noodle hanging out of his mouth.

“Yeah!” Luffy agreed passionately. As he spoke, he spewed crumbs over the table. “Ah- gomen,” Luffy giggled.

“Bastard! Don’t you have any damn manners?!” Sanji yelled. Just as he finished his sentence, however, Zoro let out a huge belch which made the cutlery rattle. There was a short moment of silence in the otherwise raucous restaurant, and then came cheers and a round of applause.

Zoro even got up to bow.

As the rest of the crew (including Nami and Vivi) began laughing and cheering, Sanji shook his head and gave up trying to instill any kind of etiquette in his crewmates.

When they’d finished eating, Sanji and Zoro had to drag Luffy away from their table before he snuck into the kitchen for thirds and fourths. Outside, the sun was setting in the sky and had bathed the island in a warm orange glow. The chaos in the street had not abated, and they had to kick, slice and beat several people out of the way as they made their way down the street. They came to a waterfront where there were several more cafes and restaurants, but most were closing up for the evening to Luffy’s chagrin. Instead they entered what appeared to be the largest and busiest pub in the port; the building was three stories high and extremely wide, and was filled with all manner of pirates and other criminals who loitered outside and gambled in the streets, while others fought each other or flirted with women. From inside, a band could be heard playing a lively tune.

It took less than an hour for all of them to get completely wasted.

Vivi, who had apparently not been allowed to drink at all at the palace, was a total lightweight as everyone expected. She had at first refused to touch a drop, but Nami began slipping small amounts of vodka into her orange juice and it wasn’t long before the two of them were singing, arm in arm, passionate songs at the top of their lungs with pink cheeks. At some point they did the can can and then traded singing and dancing for taking it in turns to try catching peanuts in their mouths.

Sanji watched them adoringly for several minutes before he got distracted by another woman (who slapped him when he drunkenly stared at her tits for too long), and then another (who kicked him in the face for spilling rum over her shoulder). He’d given up trying to get laid not long after and was now doing shots with Usopp at the bar, while Chopper lay passed out under a table nearby. Carue was drinking from a grog bottle beside him and was becoming increasingly disoriented - clearly the booze on this island was too much for their bodies.

Luffy had picked a fight with someone almost as soon as he’d entered the pub, but they’d both decided that they were evenly matched and were now singing and laughing together as if they’d been best friends for years. At some point they went outside so that Luffy could show the other pirate how far he could launch himself with his Gomu Gomu no Mi ability and he had not returned until several hours later.

Zoro, who was already pretty hammered by the time they entered, was drinking from a barrel which had been stolen from the cellar by a pirate, right before said pirate had become involved in a glass bottle fight with another pirate and had abandoned it on the bar. Yes, the swordsman was having the time of his life, lying across the bar top like that and growling at anyone who dared to come near his precious barrel of rum, right up until someone knocked into him and almost pulled him off his seat in the process.

“Argh- oh, sorry,” the man slurred, and stumbled as he tried to get to his feet. Zoro was about to ignore him and go back to drinking from the barrel tap, but then the man did a double take.

“Oi! You’re Pirate Hunter Zoro, aren’t you?” the man said, making Zoro turn his head around.

“What of it?” he asked. He was kind of hoping this guy had a vendetta or something—perhaps a pirate captain from East Blue who’d promised him the whole world, only to meet his demise at Zoro’s sword before he even got to the Grand Line…

“I’m friends with Johnny and Yosaku!” the man said, grinning broadly.

“Eh?” Zoro replied.

“Yeah! We sailed together for a while, but I haven’t seen them for a couple of months. They talk about you all the time!”

“Oh,” he replied, blinking blearily. How much had he drunk? As he sat up, the world seemed to spin and the man in front of him became just a blur in the vague shape of a person.

“You alright there?” the man asked. Clearly he wasn’t half as drunk as most of the people in the pub, because as Zoro could tell once his vision focused properly, he was not swaying, he wasn’t slurring his words and he didn’t have vomit or blood anywhere on him.

“Yeah,” Zoro replied, sitting up properly. “Johnny and Yosaku, eh? How are they doing?”

“Good,” the man said, leaning against a bar stool and looking Zoro up and down. “Good.”

“Okay,” the swordsman replied, nodding. “Y’want some rum?”

The man laughed and then turned to scan the bar for a clean – or at least clean-looking – mug, which he found before passing it over to Zoro, who poured a generous amount into it.

“S’what brings you here?” the swordsman asked, leaning against the barrel.

“My captain wanted to get laid. So did half my crew, actually,” the man explained, taking a swig from his cup.

Zoro rolled his eyes, but humoured the man and smirked. “Oh yeah? Would your captain happen to be one of the perverts out the front trying to weasel a free fuck out of one of those harbour hookers?” he asked.

“Probably,” laughed the man. “Oh! I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Hadrian.”

Hadrian wasn’t a bad looking guy; he was about Zoro’s height and roughly the same age, with well-built muscles, broad shoulders, messy light brown hair and pale skin. He was wearing pretty generic pirate attire: a pair of loose linen pants, a maroon sash around his hips and a white vest. Zoro’s eyes flicked down to his waist. At his hip, there was a scabbard holding a not-so-cheap looking katana.

“Okay,” Zoro hiccupped in reply, suddenly distracted by the sight of Sanji and Usopp dancing like loons somewhere over the man’s shoulder.

“Remember that name,” he added lowly. “I’m about to make a name for myself on these waters. Mark my word; I’ll have a bounty to rival—”

Zoro cut him off by belching loudly.

Hadrian was silent for a moment, but then he laughed.

“So do you want to fight?” Zoro asked, slamming his cup down on the bar.

“What—no, I didn’t mean—” the man stuttered.

“Oi, you can’t make an introduction like that and not follow through!” Zoro proclaimed. “Come oon…” he teased, before doing an obnoxious impression of a chicken.

The man laughed. “Fine. Let’s see just how great the big bad pirate hunter really is.”

What followed was a surprisingly challenging match. Zoro won, of course; with a few stern words to his new friend about his footwork and how he needed to sharpen his aim. At the end of it however, they were drinking and singing in the pub with renewed enthusiasm.

It was pretty hazy experience, but Zoro found it hard to deny the pleasant way the man’s muscles felt strong against him as they sang loudly with arms over each other’s shoulders, mugs of grog held high. He was evenly shaped and sized to Zoro, and even the swordsman couldn’t deny the flirtatious quality of Hadrian’s actions, nor the suggestive way in which the hand on his back travelled a little further south than he was prepared for.

At some point, Zoro lost track of his new drinking buddy and found himself drinking with Sanji and Usopp further down the bar. The pair of them were utterly wasted; Sanji was trying to get Usopp to work up the courage to speak to a cute, blonde haired woman who was sitting alone at the end of the bar filing her nails and looking completely unperturbed by the chaos going on around her. (The only reason he wasn’t trying to get into her knickers himself was because he was currently not nearly presentable enough for a woman of her grace: someone had spilled gin over him earlier, Luffy had stolen his tie and knotted it around his head so he could pretend to be a ninja, and his hair was in disarray from an earlier wrestling match with another patron of the bar whom he’d kicked off the balcony upstairs.)

“Just go, Usopp-kun, she won’t bi- well, sh’might bite, I don’t really know, but—you have to at leasht try, y’know,” Sanji slurred before he apparently lost all the strength in his neck and slumped his head down on his friend’s shoulder. Usopp, who was equally hammered, still managed to look terrified even though he was full of liquid courage. Either that or he was about to throw up.

He took a few moments to reply, but when he did his voice was loud enough to make Sanji jerk his head back up. “YOSH!!” he bellowed, before standing and making his way down the bar unsteadily. He was about halfway there when his legs buckled underneath him and he fell into a table.

Zoro and Sanji both began laughing hysterically through hiccups.

“Oi, cook, pour me another,” Zoro drawled, holding his shot glass out.

Sanji grabbed the bottle by the neck and haphazardly poured them a glass each. He spilled it everywhere, but managed to get at least a bit into each glass. Zoro downed it in one go and then held his glass out for Sanji to pour another. They did this a few times until Zoro felt the cook’s head hit his shoulder dramatically.

He had passed out.

Zoro glanced down at the blond head on his shoulder. Sanji was breathing gently through his nose and the hand that had been grasping the bottle had gone lax.

“Lightweight,” Zoro muttered, and downed the rest of the bottle with a wince. Looking around, Zoro tried to locate the rest of his crew.

Luffy was chugging a bottle of grog on the other side of the bar while a throng of pirates cheered him on. Usopp was passed out beside Chopper under the table, and Nami was braiding Vivi’s ponytail while the Princess rested her head on her knees drunkenly, about ready to pass out herself. She was being propped up by Carue, who was still protective of the Princess even in his inebriated state.

Zoro glanced over at the large grandfather clock on the on the far wall of the pub. It was almost five in the morning and the fray of the pub didn’t look like it was going to die down any time soon. As most of his crewmates appeared to be either unconscious or getting there, it seemed like this would be a good time to start rounding up the troops to make their way back to the ship.

But first, Zoro really needed a piss.

He gently nudged Sanji’s head with his shoulder. When the cook didn’t stir, Zoro sighed and reached his hand around to tenderly cradle the back of Sanji’s head so he could gently extricate him from his shoulder. The other man was limp in his grasp, so Zoro was very careful as he gently laid his head down on the bar.

Then, he hopped off his stool and set about trying to locate the men’s room. He walked around for several minutes until he stopped dead, scratching his head in confusion. He must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere because he circled the large bar at the centre of the pub at least five times, to the point that he was on the verge of delirium. Giving up, he simply walked out of the first door he came across and decided that the outside wall of this dump would do just fine.

Outside, things were much quieter, the night air cooler. It was a nice break from the pandemonium of the pub. He wobbled down the wide alley behind the building for a few moments until he found a decent spot beside a large of pile of rubbish. He turned to face the wall, lifted his haramaki, tugged down his loose pants slightly and drew himself out. He sighed and yawned as he emptied his bladder, which took several minutes due to the fact that he’d drunk almost an entire barrel of rum.

Suddenly, his ear twitched as he picked up the sound of pants and grunts. A fight? When he was finished, he shook himself a couple of times and then pulled his pants up before he rounded the rubbish dump to see what was going on. Gripping the hilt of Wado, he gently stepped around the corner.

He blushed as he realised that he’d just stumbled across a rather intimate moment.

It was the man from earlier. He was bent over with his trousers around his ankles as a much larger man in a dark robe slammed into him from behind. He was grunting and panting as a smirk crossed the larger man’s scarred face and drove into him over and over again. Zoro’s drinking buddy had an expression of ecstasy on his face, and when he grunted out a ‘harder’, the swordsman felt his cock twitch in his pants. He was about to turn and sneak away when he heard the man’s voice once again.

“Oi, you, Pirate Hunter,” he ground out through a breathless smirk, his eyes watering with pleasure, “want to join us?”

Zoro froze and replied without looking back. “Um—no. Thanks,” he said brusquely, his mouth a firm line, and walked away stiffly.

Red faced, he kicked open the door of the pub, feeling a bit more sober than before. Shaking his head, he tried to block the image out of his mind and instead made his way over to where he’d been sitting. It took him a while, but eventually he found Sanji in exactly the same position he’d left him in. He glanced around the pub momentarily while he wondered how he should start getting people home. Nami was still conscious, though she looked like she might drop at any minute, and Vivi, Usopp and Chopper were snoozing nearby.

 Zoro looked around for his captain. Luffy was dancing with a very large woman who was swinging a bottle of rum around. Well, Zoro thought, if Luffy was still conscious, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his friends – even if he _was_ wasted. So he walked back over to the bar and pulled Sanji –who was easily the worst one for being sick when he got drunk and thus the most likely to choke on his own vomit – up from his seat. The movement stirred him, and as Zoro arranged him so his arm was slung over his shoulder, the cook groaned and mumbled something incoherent.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro sighed, dragging the cook to the door and gripping him around the waist.

Once outside, Zoro walked them over to the waterfront. It was a long, cobbled promenade which ran alongside a harbour filled with multicoloured boats of all sizes. Most of them were fairly small, but there were several pirate ships further out. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon, and the whole ocean was lit up in soft pinks and oranges. Zoro paused and looked out over the water.

Shit.

He couldn’t see their ship at all, nor could he remember which direction they’d come from.

He glanced down at the cook and shook him awake. “Oi,” he grunted. When the cook didn’t wake up, Zoro sighed and leaned in close to Sanji’s ear. “Nami’s topless,” he whispered.

Sanji’s head popped up and he glanced around blearily. “Where?”

“Where’s the ship, dumbass?” Zoro asked.

Sanji turned to look at him. “Oh, it’s you,” he mumbled, and then slumped back down again.

Annoyed, Zoro gave up trying to be gentle. “Oi, cook! Wake up, damnit!” Zoro yelled.

“What?” Sanji whined.

“Where’s the ship?”

Sanji sighed and stood up a bit straighter, but still didn’t pull away from the swordsman. He glanced around the harbour, grimacing against the light of the sun. “We came from that way,” he drawled, pointing right – and then passed right out again, his head in the crook of Zoro’s neck. The swordsman tried to ignore the other man’s smell; he reeked of vodka and cigarette smoke.

Rolling his eyes, he conceded that Sanji’s advice was better than nothing, so he shrugged Sanji’s arm back over his shoulder and began walking along the path. It was several minutes before Sanji stirred again, apparently woken by Zoro’s wobbly stride and the feeling of his own feet dragging on the cobblestone path. When he woke again, however, he seemed to wake up properly.

“Eh? Where are we?” he mumbled, looking around.

Zoro glanced at him. “We’re at the harbour, looking for the ship,” Zoro replied. “Can you see it?” he’d been looking down every pier he passed and scanning the horizon for their jolly roger, but hadn’t seen anything.

Sanji glanced around. “Hmm…” he hummed, before peering back over his shoulder and giggling. “You’re such a dumbass,” he chuckled, his voice silly and high pitched. Clearly he had yet to sober up.

“Eh? What now?” Zoro asked as he kept walking.

“The ship’s back there,” Sanji giggled, pointing behind them.

Zoro stopped dead and looked over his shoulder. There, just visible behind the topmast of the frigate they’d docked beside earlier that day, was their jolly roger, flapping in the wind.

Scowling, Zoro kicked Sanji in the ankle, who seemed to find this hilarious. “Moss-brain,” he giggled.

“Shut up, dartboard-brow,” Zoro snapped quietly, and turned them both around to walk back to the right jetty.

“Oi, where’s everyone else?” Sanji asked, his laughter stopping suddenly.

“They’re back at the pub. I’ve got to go back and get them once I take your projectile vomiting ass back to the ship,” Zoro replied. “Luffy will have my balls if you choke to death out here.”

“Hm, you certainly put a lot of thought into that excuse, didn’t you, moss brain?” Sanji purred.

There was something in the other man’s voice that almost made Zoro trip over the planks on the boardwalk. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I forgot. You get cranky when you start to sober up,” Sanji sniffed, before sighing dramatically and leaning even more of his weight on the swordsman’s muscled shoulder as he stumbled along beside him. “It’s a shame ‘cause… tonight could’ve been a wonderful excuse… it could’ve been the perfect crime… fufufu…” Sanji added wistfully, giggling through his nose.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zoro replied, frowning and looking away from the other man. His cheeks were a bit pink and he tried to ignore the feeling of the cook’s moon-eyes – which were usually reserved for the girls – boring into the side of his face.

Suddenly, Sanji pulled away from him. He stumbled backward, but Zoro grabbed him before he fell.

“Idiot! Watch where you’re going,” he snapped.

Sanji was standing in front of him now, humming happily and gripping Zoro by the shoulders. He wrapped his arms around his neck and began to sway. “Ah… Zoro-kun! Dance with me!” he sang.

“Oh, for- I might be shitface drunk but I’m not drunk enough for that,” Zoro snapped, blushing and trying to pull away from the blond.

“But it’s such a beautiful evening!” Sanji giggled, pulling himself closer to his friend, their chests flush.

“It’s morning, dumbass,” Zoro replied, trying to hold back a smile. If he had a camera den-den mushi right now… “I’m not dancing.”

“Oh come oon…” Sanji said, before he began humming a tune. He reached down for Zoro’s hands and placed them on his hips before wrapping his arms around his friend’s neck once more. “When the rhythm starts to play, dance with me… make me sway…”

“Oh Jesus.”

“Like the lazy ocean hugs the shore… _Hold me close_ …” Sanji continued, louder this time.

“You’re such a moron.” With a huff, Zoro gave up and gently started to follow the cook’s movements. He was too dizzy to keep struggling; he could only hope that Nami was still back at the pub. The last thing he needed was her blackmailing him on top of all the money he owed her...

“See? It’s not so bad, is it?” Sanji purred.

He was so close that Zoro could feel his voice vibrate against him. He shivered. “If you fall off this pier and drown I will laugh for an entire decade,” he said, but there was no real venom in his voice.

“Shush now,” Sanji whispered, and pulled his body as close as he could to the other man. He rested his head on Zoro’s shoulder and swayed gently for a little while, until Zoro nudged him softly.

“Oi,” Zoro mumbled. “I mean it. I need to get back and carry the others home.”

“Hm… spoil sport,” Sanji chastised, but didn’t resist when Zoro gently pushed him away and led them back up to the ship.

Pulling Sanji onto his back, he told him to hold on tight as he climbed the rope up to the deck. Once there, he untangled Sanji from his grasp and helped him down the mast and into the men’s quarters (and almost got hit in the face with the pepper bomb Usopp had rigged the entrance with), where the cook collapsed onto the couch.

Zoro sighed as he watched him, and then shook his head as he made to pull him onto his side like Chopper had told him to the last time he got this hammered. As he pulled his hand away however, he felt Sanji grip it.

Glancing down at him, Zoro’s eyes softened. Sanji was barely awake at this point, and in the haze of half-sleep, he pulled Zoro’s hands to his lips. Didn’t kiss them though; just held them there gently. Zoro could just feel the wetness between Sanji's pliable pink lips on his fingertips, and his heart did a flip flop at the softness of the motion. When Sanji’s breathing evened out with sleep, Zoro let his hand drift a little lower, and emboldened by the alcohol and Sanji’s apparent affection for him that only seemed to surface when he was very drunk or in the most desperate of battles, he let his hands run through the silky tresses of his hair. God, but he’d wanted to do that for ages. Every time the cook moved, whether in the kitchen or on the battlefield, the way the cook’s floppy blond locks swished and curled around his face would always capture Zoro’s attention. He gently pulled the curtain of hair over his left eye to the side, not enough to reveal the eye behind it, but just so the ends weren’t poking his other eye.

Finally though, he pulled his hand away and was about to leave when he realised that Sanji was still wearing the gold chain around his neck. He reached down and undid the tiny clasp on the back of the cook’s neck, and then gently pulled it off of his neck. When he pulled away, the cook was looking up at him with his one visible blue eye and a lazy smirk on his face.

“Caught you,” he mumbled, half-asleep.

“I was just—” Zoro replied quietly, holding up his necklace.

“S’alright,” Sanji muttered sleepily, and then yawned. “Didn’t get lucky, then?” he asked as Zoro set the necklace down beside the couch.

“What?”

“Didn’t get laid, then?” Sanji repeated.

Zoro frowned. “I’m not interested in that.”

“What a waste.”

Okay, this was just getting weird. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sanji began, his voice barely above a whisper, though Zoro had no idea why they were talking in hushed tones, “that you could get laid in a heartbeat with a face like yours. But you choose not to. S’why it’s a waste.”

Zoro stared at his friend blankly in the dim light for a moment, and then blinked at him groggily a few times.

“S’not so easy for the rest of us mere mortals,” Sanji whispered, and tweaked Zoro’s nose with his thumb and forefinger playfully.

“Didn’t know you thought of that kind of stuff. About me I mean,” Zoro replied. He liked drunk Sanji better than sober Sanji sometimes. He was more open; there was no pomp and circumstance or never ending one-upmanship. He was just his honest peculiar self.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Sanji murmured.

They shared a meaningful look, but then Sanji looked away and Zoro sighed.

“You just need to stop fussing over women so much,” Zoro whispered. “Maybe you need to like… play hard to get or something, or whatever it is they say in Nami’s magazines.”

Sanji snorted. “You read those?”

“She leaves them on the table all the time,” Zoro mumbled, blushing slightly.

Sanji was silent for a moment, and then he spoke again, his voice still quiet. “They’re good, aren’t they?” he asked.

Zoro smiled bashfully. “Yeah.”

They shared a quiet laugh.

“Right, I really have to get back to the pub before Luffy destroys something,” Zoro said after a comfortable silence. He stood up and made to leave.

“Oi, Zoro,” Sanji called softly.

“Hm?”

“Thanks for dancing with me.”

Zoro shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah, you better be grateful. I'm not fucking doing that again.”

Sanji smiled, but was out like a light before Zoro had even reached the deck.

*

The next day, the ship was like a field hospital in a warzone.

Zoro, as expected, was the last to rise, but considering he’d carried half the crew home last night (Carue had carried Nami and Vivi home on his back while Luffy had returned of his own accord after eating breakfast at one of the cafes and had then passed out in the galley), he was entitled to a little extra rest.

He woke up around two p.m. to the sound of Usopp groaning in the hammock next to him. He turned over to look at his friend. He was hugging a bucket to his chest and had an expression on his face like he’d just swallowed something unpleasant. Zoro blinked hazily a few times and then glanced around the room. He peered over the edge of his hammock at the floor and then over at the couch where he’d deposited the cook last night. He wasn’t there.

Zoro swung his legs over the side of his hammock and wobbled slightly as he tried to steady his footing. He stretched and yawned loudly.

“Hang in there, buddy,” he said, patting Usopp on the shoulder and walking over to the dresser to grab a clean pair of pants before making his way up to the bathroom. He reeked of alcohol and a variety of bodily fluids (probably from every member of the crew), and the smell was making him nauseous. Luckily, the bathroom was unoccupied. Everybody else must’ve been up already.

He switched the shower on and brushed his teeth while he waited for the generator to kick in. Hopefully someone had remembered to charge it up again… He spat out the toothpaste in his mouth and held his hand in the spray until he felt it warm up. When it was finally warm enough, he rinsed his mouth, undressed and stepped under the shower head with a shiver.

Closing his eyes, he sighed and stretched luxuriantly as he felt the warmth seep through his skin, right through to his bones. It was another belting hot day outside, but the steam helped to clear the headache that had begun creeping up on him the moment he’d woken up. It wasn’t like him to get hung-over like this, but last night had been rather a heavy session even by his standards – not to mention the vast amount of shellfish they’d consumed right before. He didn’t envy Usopp one bit.

As he stood under the spray, images from the night before started to seep back into his mind. They were at the restaurant, stuffing their faces… Sanji kicked him under the table… he had a barrel of rum which he was devouring like it was his last meal… he gave someone else a few mugs of it… fighting with someone… Usopp falling into a table… Sanji and Usopp dancing… Nami braiding Vivi’s hair… needing to pee really badly…

His eyes snapped open as he remembered what he’d stumbled across in the alley. As soon as he thought about it, his cock stirred and twitched at the memory of what he’d seen. Zoro shook his head and grabbed the cracked bar of soap on the shelf beside him to begin scrubbing his body harshly, as if he could scour the image out of his mind with it. Alas, it was useless: the sight of the man bent over was burnt onto his brain and the more he tried to forget it, the more details came back to him.

There in his mind eye was the picture of ecstasy and strain on the man’s face, the lopsided smile as he panted and grunted harshly, begged the other man behind him to fuck him harder. There was the sound of the other man’s hips slapping against his backside again and again, making the smaller man’s firm, round ass cheeks shake as he smirked in utter domination.

Zoro’s cock was half hard. Damnit! He slammed the soap back onto the shelf and tried to rinse himself off as quickly as possible. But as he rubbed away the suds, his hand brushed his bobbing cock and made him gasp sharply. He exhaled shakily and glanced down at himself.

Thinking back to Chopper’s words, he worried his lip between his teeth and wondered if it would really be such a crime against his ambition if he gave in to his desire. After all, if it really was just another bodily process, then surely it was just like breathing or sleeping, right? And he wasn’t going to deny himself _those_ bodily processes. Wasn’t it really more of a crime against his ambition to hold back in such a way?

He tapped his finger against the tiles as he leant against the wall and considered his options, wondered whether this whole repression thing was just him making excuses because he wasn’t ready to admit that he was attracted to—

He shook his head. There was no point in even thinking about that, since he wasn’t ever going to go down that path anyway. He didn’t want to be like the cook: weakened by his vulnerability to bodily desires and his awe of the fairer sex.

Instead, he reasoned that if was going to be him and his hand for the rest of his life, then he might as well start getting used to it. If nothing else, he might start sleeping a little better.  

With this in mind, he closed his eyes and leant his forehead against the back of his hand as he wrapped the other around his dick, which was beading with precum at the tip. He thought back to last night, to the way the man—Hadrian?—had caught Zoro watching him in the alley. Thought back to the way his voice had shook with the force of the other man’s thrusts. He switched their positions in his mind; suddenly he was behind him, and he bucked his hips back and forth a few times as a soft grunt escaped him. He thought back to the way the other man’s shoulder had pressed against him; firm muscle against his own coupled with a boozy, masculine scent that Zoro could still smell over the pungent aroma of the soap. His hand sped up as he thought of their fight and the way he’d eventually overpowered the other man.

Panting harshly, he allowed his fingers to brush the underside of his cock. He let out a harsh grunt as his thumb swept over his fraenulum and he hissed harshly as his the images in his mind went into overdrive; he focused on other fights he’d had and the intoxicating power trip every victory had given him.

Naturally, his thoughts drifted towards the cook.

He felt a jolt of pre-orgasmic pleasure overpower him as he thought of the way he’d pinned the other man against the wall, the way Sanji’s inhumanly strong foot had pinned him to the table by his nuts. He could feel the ghostly presence of it there still, and it only propelled him faster toward the finishing line.

Suddenly, he snapped his eyes open. There was no way he was going to get himself off to the cook, of all people, no matter how strong he was. So he went back to thinking about Hadrian, the stranger at the bar, but it didn’t excite him as it had done before; in fact, he felt his libido ebb a little at the thought of him. He scowled and almost stopped in frustration, but Roronoa Zoro didn’t give up on anything. He forced himself to focus on the man in his mind, but something in him kept replacing Hadrian’s bent over form with Sanji, and the man behind him with himself, and that only seemed to heighten the pleasure.

Jesus Christ! Why did it have to be Sanji of all people?! He was annoying, he was _straight_ , and he was an asshole to everyone who didn’t have a vagina! He wore stupid, frilly suits in ridiculous colour combinations and he barely ever worked on his muscles. They were stupid and wimpy and lean and—Zoro hated him, and Sanji hated him back, so why couldn’t he get the goddamn chef out of his mind?!

At that, some small voice at the back of his mind piped up; a very wise voice that usually only spoke in the heat of battle.

Perhaps it was because that the sting that flavoured their relationship wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

With a defeated sigh, he finally yielded to the truth, blinked water out of his eyes and allowed his hand to speed up once more. In the face of not being able to open the floodgates with anything else, Zoro let his fantasies to jump into focus.

He was on top of the cook now and those long, strong legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. He bucked his hips back and forth harshly as Sanji screamed beneath him, begging him to go harder, his stupid blond hair a sprawled mess on the pillow beneath him. Zoro reached down to roll his balls in his palm firmly and groaned. In the next fantasy, Sanji was on top of him, his legs either side of his body and his back to Zoro as he rode him harshly, his powerful legs giving his movements a vigour most people could only dream of. In the next, he had Sanji on the table where he’d pinned him a few nights ago with those commanding legs of his, and they were kissing passionately while Zoro slammed into him like a piston, making Sanji cum on his cock and scream his name.

Zoro let out a soft cry as he soared over the edge. His vision blanked for a minute as the strength of his orgasm overcame him. It was the most blissful few seconds of his life, until the wave of euphoria finally left his body a shuddering, panting mess.

Closing his eyes, Zoro waited for his breathing to even out. He was about to rinse himself off when there was a sudden banging on the door.

“Zoro-san! Are you in there?! I’m sorry, but—I really need to use the bathroom!” It was Vivi.

Blushing deeply, he replied. “Uh—sure! Just a sec!” he replied. He made quick work of rinsing the cum and soap from his body, shut the shower off and stepped out of the bath carefully. Damnit! He was still hard. He willed his erection to flag as he dried himself haphazardly and pulled on his pants, before swinging open the door to the princess, who was dancing the ‘need to pee’ dance with remarkable grace.

“Sorry,” the swordsman mumbled in embarrassment, trying to hide his crotch with his haramaki. 

Vivi didn’t reply—she rushed into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving Zoro standing alone and embarrassed in the store room.

Running his hand down his damp face, Zoro felt a sense of dread root him to the floor like an anchor on the seabed. He was so screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the reviews and kudos! It means a lot. I hope you enjoy the next chapter! :)

Sanji felt like shit.

He groaned as he gripped the railing of the ship and emptied his stomach over the edge for the third time that day. It irked him that he was technically wasting food and he cursed himself for getting so drunk the night before. It was kind of ironic how sick he got when he was hung-over considering his history and hatred of waste.

Sighing, he blinked his watery eyes a few times and stood up straight. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a napkin and wiped his mouth before tossing it overboard and making his way back to the galley. He squinted against the hazy heat of the sun. God, he wished it would fuck off. It was too damn early and he was too damn hung-over for this shitty weather. Well, at least if it was warm out, he might at least get a chance to see the girls in their swimsuits… He giggled wickedly, but then reminded himself that he had a crew of hung-over pirate mouths to feed and standing there drooling like a pervert wasn’t going to cure anyone. Shaking his head, he pushed open the door to the galley. 

He swooned at the sight of Nami and Vivi sitting at the table and squashed down the disappointment at what they were wearing. Nami was wearing an old blue t-shirt that she sometimes slept in, one that failed to hug her curves at all and instead hung loosely around her, along with a pair of baggy shorts. Her ginger hair was in disarray and she was wearing a huge pair of sunglasses over her big brown eyes – probably, Sanji surmised, to hide the bags that were no doubt underneath. She was buttering a croissant and chatting to Vivi about going shopping later. Ah, how Nami-san even managed to make hang-overs look glamorous was such a wonderful mystery to him…

Vivi, on the other hand, was dressed even more conservatively. She was wearing a long sleeved baseball hoodie and a pair of leggings, though her hair was still messily braided from the night before, which meant she probably hadn’t showered just yet and that the pair of them had come straight up to the galley for coffee. Carue was snoozing under the table.

They both ignored him as he swooned and spun in adoration, nausea be damned.

It was at that moment that he heard Chopper plod in, and he was reminded that there was another in the galley too – namely, Luffy, who was snoring on a bag of flour over in the corner with a snot bubble ballooning out of his nose. Sanji glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon, and there was still no sign of Usopp or the Marimo—

He stopped dead as he thought of the swordsman, as a memory from the night before had just flown into his mind.

There they were, on the pier early that morning, bathed in the honey-coloured light of the dawn with their long shadows stretching across the wood planks. They were embracing, and Sanji was singing softly as he held on to the idiot Marimo and swayed.

His eyes flicked down to the kitchen cupboard where the bleach was kept, his cheeks bright pink.

“Sanji-san? Are you alright?” Vivi’s voice was like birdsong on a battlefield.

“You look like you’re going to hurl,” Nami commented around the rim of her coffee mug.

“Not to worry! I’m just still a bit disoriented,” he replied, smiling queasily, and then went to refill the coffee pot. He hadn’t bothered with the dress shirt today; it was too warm for stiff fabrics, so he’d settled on a loose white t-shirt and jeans instead.

He felt a little too sick to do too much for what was probably brunch now, so he decided to heat up some leftover soup that was in the fridge. It took a minute to find it as it was lodged behind all the crab meat he’d had to stuff into the small compartments the day before. It was simmering on the stove when his ears picked up on the sound of the generator rumbling from somewhere deep in the belly of the ship. Obviously someone had finally risen… he glanced up at the clock. Usopp had woken before he had and was groaning in his hammock when Sanji had walked by him earlier on. Chopper was sitting opposite the girls while Luffy still snored loudly on the other side of the room—though it wouldn’t be long before he would be woken by the smell of food.

After a few more minutes, he served the soup into bowls with a ladle (and tried not to drop it as he swooned over the girls’ thanks) and sat down beside Chopper to eat. It was a peaceful few minutes until Vivi finished her bowl, stood and chirped another thank you before rushing down to the bathroom like she was about to wet herself.

Nami, Chopper, Carue and Sanji stared after her, puzzled. Then, Nami sighed with a roll of her eyes.

“That girl has too many manners for her own good,” she grumbled with a shake of her head.

Sanji was about to launch into a misty eyed speech about how polite and wonderful the Princess was, when his attention was grabbed by a sudden snort from the other side of the room, signalling that their captain had just woken up.

It took Luffy, who never seemed to suffer the effects of heavy drinking like the rest of the crew, less than a minute to realise that food was being served to get to his seat on the table and begin wolfing down the soup Sanji had poured into his bowl. Shortly after, Usopp walked into the galley looking marginally less pale than he had earlier that morning, and was now slowly spooning soup into his mouth. Sanji pondered letting Luffy eat the rest of it, but reasoned that it just went against his principles too much to leave nothing for the swordsman. Whether their relationship was fraught with tension and mutual dislike or they were the best of friends, it didn’t matter; Sanji was the cook of this crew and it was his duty to see them all well-fed. So when Luffy had finished his third bowl of soup, Sanji took the remaining bowlful that was left in the bottom of the pan and placed it back on the stove.

Luffy whimpered and made a grabbing motion with his hands in spite of the fact that he still had a huge bowl of his own to finish off and had half-eaten loaf of bread in his hand.  

“Finish what you’re eating first!” Sanji bellowed. Everybody else winced, obviously still battling headaches.

Luffy whined, but eventually did as he was told and focused on finishing his own food. It was then that Zoro chose to march into the galley, shirtless and still slightly damp from the shower.

Sanji had just placed a cigarette between his lips when he caught sight of the swordsman’s muscles—which were shining with moisture ever so slightly like he was in some kind of bodybuilding championship—out of the corner of his eye. Something deep inside him fluttered in a way not too dissimilar to how it did when he saw a pretty girl walk by – but this was markedly more potent. He squashed it down stubbornly and moved so Zoro could get his soup off the stove.

As he walked by, Zoro glanced at the cook with an unreadable look on his face, and then looked away as he moved to get himself some soup. Sanji looked back at him, before averting his eyes quickly and turning to walk out of the kitchen to hide the slight blush that had coloured his cheeks. Clearly he wasn’t the only one remembering some rather embarrassing details from the night before. Fortunately, it seemed that both he and Zoro were stubborn enough to ignore them altogether.

“Well, I guess I should get going before the market closes,” he said nervously. He grabbed his jacket from a hook beside the door.

“Sanji-kun, I thought you might want to—” Nami began, but she was too late. Sanji had already left. “Oh, well that’s weird.”

“Yeah, I was going to go with him too,” Chopper said and sniffed a little from the runny nose the spicy soup had given him. “I need to go and buy a few medical supplies.”

“Well, never mind,” Nami said. “When you’re done, you can come with Vivi and me when we go shopping.”

“Ooh, can I come?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of bread. “Or, on second thought, can you give me some money? I heard there’s a Ferris wheel on the other side of the island!”

Chopper and Usopp both perked up at this.

“No,” Nami snapped. “What did I say? We have to leave soon! We’ve already deviated from the voyage enough. And Chopper, didn’t you say you have medical supplies you need?”

“I just need a few more rolls of bandages and some antiseptic to bulk up my stores just in case. You should have no problem getting them yourself, right?” he asked, scratching the back of his head bashfully. Nami didn’t look impressed.

“Naamiii!!” Luffy whined.”I’m the Captain, damnit!! And I want to go on the Ferris wheel!! It’ll be so boring to stay here all day…”

“Yeah, come on Nami,” Zoro said with a teasing grin as he sat down at the table, bowl in hand.

Nami glared at him.

“Ferris wheel! Ferris wheel! Ferris wheel!” Luffy chanted, before the others all began to join in.

Annoyed, Nami frowned. “Fine!” she barked. “But don’t come running to me when you all get motion sickness to go with those hangovers!” With that, she reached into her bra and tossed a thin wad of bills at their captain’s face.

“Ah, thanks, Nami!” Luffy replied, and with that, he was gone, Chopper in tow. Usopp finished his soup quickly and followed.

“Well, I guess I better go find out what Vivi’s up to. She’s certainly been a long time,” Nami said with a sigh, before she stood and made her way out of the galley with Carue. “Stay here and watch the ship, ne?” she called over her shoulder.

Zoro nodded around his bowl, which he was drinking from greedily.

*

Sanji chewed the end of his cigarette as he walked into the centre of town. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his eyes were trained firmly on the cobbled street below as he wrestled with the memories which were slowly filtering back into his mind.

He had easily recalled the bizarre memory of dancing with Zoro on the jetty at dawn, and he couldn’t help but kick himself over the bittersweet picture which was haunting his consciousness. It certainly was a beautiful scene, but for the fact that the person he was dancing with was distinctly not Nami or Vivi. Instead it was their rum-chugging, sword-swinging, weight-lifting first mate, and Sanji wasn’t sure that he’d ever live it down if anyone else were to find out about it. Luckily, the swordsman didn’t appear to have remembered—or at the very least, he had just enough brain cells to pretend so.

Shaking his head, Sanji tried to push the memory out of his mind, deciding that it was just a drunken moment of absurdity that was best left buried.

Sadly, his psyche apparently had other ideas.

As he ambled through the bustling street, more and more scenes from last night filtered back into his mind. There’d been a fight at some point with a burly man who’d been getting just a bit too handsy with a rather attractive woman. She’d been older than Sanji by at least ten years or so, but the cook had tried his luck anyway. Rather embarrassingly however, she’d been less than interested. A kaleidoscope of other women flashed through his mind but none of them really stood out, which suggested that he’d failed to find any joy with them either. Then… was he trying to get Usopp laid or something? Wow, he must’ve been _really_ drunk…

There was a vaguer memory which was trickling into his mind now… a memory of hands in his hair, stroking his sensitive scalp and fingers running through his blond locks… that had felt nice. But who was it? He furrowed his brow as he tried to remember… he was back at the ship, wasn’t he? He brought his hand to his lips in thought, which sharply brought back another memory…

Oh no.

Oh _fuck_ no.

Had he… _kissed_ Zoro's hand?

No… No! Of-of course he hadn’t! He wasn’t gay…

Stubbornly, he shook his head and decided to bluntly ignore the memory, instead resolving to focus on what he’d come into town for.

He came to what appeared to be a distillery, and entered quietly. Absently, he sifted through the many vibrant wares on the shelves. After last night, the last thing on his mind was booze, but he needed more cooking sherry and the crew, no doubt, would soon be running low on alcohol anyway. They were pirates, after all, and certainly lived up to the stereotype in that regard. Eventually, he was able to distract himself from his thoughts for long enough to replenish a good chunk of their liquor stores with what he could remember needing. As he scrutinised the different brands and ages of the bottles, his mind settled into the peace he drew from the more mundane aspects of his vocation. 

There was certainly a lot to be said about the humbleness of a simple life; although the life of a pirate was exhilarating and suited Sanji fine, the gentle moments of peace he got in between islands and crazed megalomaniacs with increasingly wacky Devil Fruit abilities were also greatly satisfying.

Yes, the fresh air did wonders for Sanji. He was getting a little sick of having to restock on more and more rations at every town they came across thanks to their Captain’s complete lack of self restraint when it came to food… Hopefully, Nami-san would soon buy him a fridge with a lock on it. He tapped his chin as he considered what he could make for the following few weeks. Given that Drum was a winter island, the crew was probably sick to death of the stodgy food they’d been living on since re-stocking there. Sanji, despite his heightened gratitude for every meal, was certainly ready to treat his own palette to something lighter. As he strolled leisurely through the town, he made a mental list of meals for the next couple of weeks before they reached Arabasta to distract him from nagging memories of the previous night, which were still tugging on his psyche incessantly. 

He smoked lazily as he made his way through the chaotic streets, dodging swords and punches with ease. How these people had the energy to make this kind of ruckus on such a blistering day was beyond him. Eventually, he found his way to another long, wide street with many stalls and shops, where the vendors were no less overzealous about flogging their wares than they were about beating the living daylights out of each other.

When he’d bought the majority of what he needed, he decided to kill some time flirting with a pretty, if slightly over-decorated, young woman who was selling candied fruits by the scoopful when he caught sight of something green out of the corner of his eye. As he glanced over to what he’d seen, the woman snatched her hand out of his grasp scurried off to serve a customer at the other end of her stall. Curious, Sanji left to investigate what he’d seen a few stalls over.

Gently lifting the canopy, Sanji stepped under the spacious tent and walked over to the little patch of green he’d glimpsed amongst the browns and reds of the market stall. Inside a large rectangular crate there was a huge pile of moss-green fish, exactly the shade of Zoro’s hair. Each fish had two rows of sharp teeth, three dark green stripes running down each side and was large enough that they seemed like they’d feed the crew well. With a quirk of his lips, Sanji couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between the idiot swordsman and the fish that was piled up in front of him. Grinning excitedly, Sanji called out to the vendor to ask what they were.

“Greenbellies!” he boomed, wielding a massive cleaver and standing over a blood-stained wooden chopping board. He was a large, burly man, with arms like two great, hairy tree trunks.

Sanji grinned, eight years old and reading about All Blue for the first time all over again. “Greenbellies?” he asked, glancing down at them again.

“Yep! ‘Cause of their fat little bellies, see,” the vendor clipped, tossing a rag over his shoulder and trudging over to where Sanji stood. He pointed at one of them and continued. “They’re native to the island. That’s where this place gets its name. Vicious little fuckers though, are Greenbellies—they’re certainly not a catch for amateur fishermen, I’ll tell you that.”

 “I see,” Sanji said, leaning over the pile to inspect them a little closer.

“If I may suggest,” the man began, lifting one of the fish by its tailfin, “that you don’t waste a scrap of it. It’s one of the most nutritious things you’ll ever eat.”

Sanji chuckled. “Believe me, I won’t,” he replied, blowing out a stream of smoke. “So, how much?” he asked.

They haggled for several minutes until they reached a price that even Nami would be proud of. Excitedly, Sanji bought several of them. His eagerness to try the new delicacy obliterated the annoyance he felt at even being reminded of Zoro in a frigging  _fish._

If nothing else, he’d enjoy pretending the fish was Zoro’s stupid green head when he gutted it.

*

When he returned to the Merry, Zoro was snoring on the deck near the figurehead. Some watchman he was… Shaking his head, Sanji went about storing away everything he’d bought. Half an hour later, the girls returned bearing several bags and were going through their haul excitedly. Carue didn’t look particularly pleased at having been treated like a pack mule for the entire day; Nami, no doubt, had taken full advantage of him. He was now dozing tiredly on the floor, probably still a bit hung-over.

Predictably, Sanji fawned over them and offered them fruity drinks while he suggested they tried their new collection on in the galley in his usual oily tone. They ignored him pointedly and continued holding new dresses up to their bodies and trying on new shoes. This continued (with Sanji watching them, starry eyed, in the corner) until they heard the telltale sound of crashing outside the galley, signalling that their captain had just launched himself (and, probably, Usopp and Chopper) into the side of the ship with his freakish ability.

With that, Nami rolled her eyes and put her clothes back in their bags before announcing that they were leaving while it was still light out.

“But Nami!!” Luffy moaned, still chewing on a candy apple. “There’s a whole funfair on the other side of the island and we haven’t even—”

“No excuses! We’ve already been here way too long. Sanji’s restocked, you’ve had some playtime and I’ve been shopping. As far as I’m concerned, we have no reason to stay here any longer.”

“But… booze,” Zoro mumbled. His voice almost made Sanji jump; he hadn’t noticed him come into the galley.

“I think you drank enough last night to keep you wasted for the rest of the month,” Sanji quipped, cupping his hand around the end of his cigarette to light it. “Besides, we’ve got enough alcohol on board to keep your liver from catching a break any time soon, so don’t worry that little mossy brain of yours.”

“Che. _‘Enough to keep me wasted for a month.’_ That’s a little rich coming from you,” Zoro replied, sniffing. “Lightweight.”

“Eh? You want a fight, shithead?” Sanji growled.

“If you’ve still got any in you, shit-cook,” Zoro sneered.

“That’s enough!” Nami yelled. “We’re leaving in an hour, so all of you get your shit together and stop dicking around.”

With that, they were soon on leaving the choppy waters of Devil’s Belly and were on their way to Arabasta.

*

It seemed like they were barely out at sea for five minutes when they sailed into heavy rainfall. But this wasn’t typical rainfall; this rainfall was that special kind of rainfall that didn’t stop for days at a time. So far, they were on day three of it, and given the grave colour of the clouds outside it didn’t seem like it was going to let up any time soon. Grand Line weather was so bizarre. How Nami-san managed to navigate it with such proficiency made him feel even more fortunate to be sailing with such an intelligent woman. Luckily though, it wasn’t particularly windy – it was just raining torrentially. This made watch duties especially wet and cold, so Sanji made sure to keep a flask of cocoa on the counter top for the midnight switchover and refused to let anyone ascend to the crow’s nest without one—even Zoro, albeit grudgingly.

The rain meant that the galley, as expected, was often full of bored crewmembers. Sanji was grateful for the company when he was cooking, though constantly kicking Luffy away from the things he left on the counter was getting annoying. When he wasn’t trying to sneak food he sat opposite Vivi, who was trying to teach him how to play draughts with a board game set Usopp had bought in a curio shop they had found on Devil’s Belly. Unsurprisingly, Luffy kept losing badly, but Vivi, bless her, had the patience of a saint and never stopped trying to help him understand it. Nami was either reading a magazine or scanning maps while Chopper organised medical supplies and chatted about whatever popped into his mind with whoever would listen. Today, Carue was resting his head on Vivi’s lap and watching the game listlessly.

The domesticity of the moment settled in the pit of Sanji’s gut and radiated right down to his fingertips. He’d never felt quite like he’d belonged anywhere as much as he did in these moments of family.

Sanji was halfway through filleting the Greenbellies for dinner when he heard a clunking sound in the store room downstairs. He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward as he realised that Zoro was lifting weights in down there again. It was barely even loud enough to mute the sound of Vivi explaining the rules of the game, but Sanji’s sensitive feet could feel every thud of the weights hitting the store room ceiling below with every curl. Fucking Zoro and his inability to stop sculpting his already perfect body for five minutes…

Gritting his teeth, Sanji tried to ignore it as best as he could while he pretended the Greenbelly was Zoro’s face, but this only made him more aggressive with the knife than he needed to be. He wound up making shoddy work of it and almost threw the whole thing away in frustration. Stroking over the tiny cut on his thumb, he thought of the thrashing he’d have received from Zeff had he seen the mess he’d made out of such a perfectly good fish. Exasperated, Sanji tore his apron off and threw it onto the counter before making his way down to the store room. He was so annoyed that he didn’t notice Nami flick her eyes up to watch him storm out of the galley with a troubled expression on her face.

How many times had he asked Zoro to quit doing his borderline masochistic exercise regimen down there while he was cooking?! He didn’t even need to lift the huge ones right now; he’d had all day and the whole ship to himself to lift them! But nope, he had to choose the _exact_ moment he knew Sanji would be preparing dinner to start using them. Sanji was sure he did this shit just to get on his nerves sometimes.

“Oi!” Sanji yelled as kicked open the door to the store room.

Zoro looked up him, his face slightly damp. “What?” he grunted through heaving breaths.

He did a double take. Zoro was shirtless and he was sweating too; his face was pinched in concentration. His muscles seemed like they were bulging as he panted from the exertion of lifting the enormous weights clutched in his hands. He was wearing his haramaki, but his swords were leaning against the wall near the bathroom door.

Sanji had the distinct feeling of a bubble popping somewhere inside him; as though the gentle peace he’d managed to wrestle from the grasp of his embarrassment over the events of the night at Devil’s Belly had been letting him live under some brief, beautiful illusion.

“ _What_?” Zoro grunted again, annoyed.

Blinking, Sanji shook his head as he realised he’d just been standing there staring at the other man mindlessly. “Keep the damn noise down or I’ll put something nasty in your food,” he snapped, and slammed the door behind him as he left. 

With a shaky exhale of breath, he flattened his back against the door for a moment before he rubbed his face with both hands. To his horror, his cheeks felt hot. Surely Zoro couldn’t have noticed, could he? Sanji shook his head, pushed away from the door and made his way back up to the galley to finish making dinner.

*

Dinner was noisy, if a bit more subdued than usual. The rain always did have a funny way of casting a gloomy shadow over things, but then maybe it was just his imagination. There were compliments about the food though, which lifted the cook’s spirits somewhat. He turned heart eyed as Nami and Vivi praised him.

He was clearing some of the empty plates away when he caught sight of Zoro’s eyes lingering on his hips. Sanji was wearing a light yellow dress shirt which had a few buttons undone at the top. Zoro’s green eyes were trained on his belt, which Sanji thought was odd. His cheeks heated up a bit as he wondered, with a spike of terror, if Zoro had caught him staring at his muscles earlier on and was now getting some perverse kind of payback.

Shaking his head, he hastily tidied the remaining plates and bowls away from the table and took them to the sink, where he began to run the water. But as he began scrubbing at the dirty dishes, he couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into his back. Surely Zoro wasn’t just sitting there staring at him while the others were all still sat around the table, was he? He glanced fractionally over his shoulder, but Zoro was just shovelling fish and rice into his mouth. He shook his head again and told himself to stop imagining things.

A short while later, the rest of the crew finished eating. They lingered for a while as they usually did, before they realised what time it was and began to file out. Luffy called dibs on the bathroom first and shot down there laughing, while Usopp and Chopper followed their captain out of the galley more slowly and down to the men’s quarters with Carue. They were discussing something about fireworks and how to make them. Zoro stomped out without a word, but Vivi and Nami lingered at the table.

They were speaking in hushed tones, and though Sanji tried to make out what they were saying, he couldn’t. It was a strange experience that he’d had before; when women spoke in his presence with the intention of keeping whatever it was they were saying from his ears. Sanji swooned inwardly, but he didn’t want them to think he was eavesdropping, so he tried not to show his adoration for their beguiling act.

He was almost done with the dishes when he heard Vivi stand from the table. “Thanks, Sanji-san! That was delicious!” she chirped, before making her way down to the women’s quarters.

Sanji swooned over her as usual, his voice dripping with compliments and gushing over the Princess’s elegance. She left with another smile, leaving cook and navigator alone.

He turned back to the sink, but then glanced around as he realised that they were alone. His eyes widened fractionally.

Was this… was this his chance?

Had Nami-san finally realised her love for him?

W-was she planning to seduce him?

Sanji’s expression became increasingly goofy and lecherous as he imagined what Nami-san had in mind for him, his heart pounding faster with every obscene fantasy that was racing through his mind at the idea.

He stopped fantasising abruptly when Nami appeared beside him and began putting plates away.

“So are you going to tell me what’s up?” she asked, chewing on what Sanji assumed was an after-dinner mint.

Dumbfounded, Sanji blinked at her a few times. “E-excuse me, Nami-san?” he croaked.

She paused in drying the plate that was in her hand and looked at him as if to say ‘don’t give me that shit’.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. “Really, Nami-san is too kind, but I’m fine. Honestly.”

“Y’know, I didn’t have you down as a liar, Sanji-kun,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not!”

“You’ve been acting weird for the last couple of days,” she replied. “Vivi and I have both noticed it.”

He pushed down the excitement at the thought that the girls had been talking about him. “Really?” he asked. “Weird how?”

Nami looked a bit sheepish at this. “Well—I mean, to be honest, it’s kind of just a feeling. That and you’ve only lost your shit over us once today, which is down from your usual minimum of nine nosebleeds per day,” she explained.

“Not because you’re any less beautiful, I assure you!” Sanji insisted desperately.

“Then why?” Nami asked.

“I—” He began, but stopped abruptly. How could he possibly explain any of the shit that had been going on in his own head when he couldn’t even focus his thoughts enough to make sense of it himself?

Nami was scrutinising him intently, and it made him blush a bit.

“I’m fine, Nami-san, really. I didn’t mean to worry you or Vivi-chan,” he said, nodding.

“Look, I’m not exactly an expert on matters of the heart. I’ve hardly had an awful lot of experience myself,” she admitted, looking down at the bowl she was drying. “But let me give you a little advice—you’re not going to have a life worth living if it’s not an honest one. ‘Cause you know… if nothing else, you need to at least be able to rely on yourself to meet your best interests—your _real_ interests.”

Sanji blinked at her a few times. It wasn’t like her to be so profound… Although he was often in awe of her intellectual prowess, even he could tell the difference between Nami’s quick, almost psychic synchrony with the weather, and what was seemingly a philosophical musing.   

“Did you get that out of a magazine?” he asked.

Nami clocked him around the head. “Damn, you’re rude! Don’t you think I can come up with shit like that by myself?” she screeched.

Rubbing his head, Sanji held his hand up to placate the navigator, whose face was almost as red as her hair. “Sorry, sorry!” he sighed.

Huffing, Nami folded her arms. “Look, you can take or leave what I’ve said. I don’t know what exactly is going on with you lately, but you look like you’re struggling with something,” she finished. “Figure it out before it eats you whole.”

Sanji blinked at her a few times, and then nodded with a meek expression. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Right, well, if you don’t mind I’m going to go and kick Luffy out of the bathroom before he uses all the hot water. Goodnight, Sanji-kun.” With that, Nami marched out of the galley, leaving Sanji alone.

Deep in thought, Sanji chewed the end of his cigarette as he cleared away the last of the dishes. When he was done, he sat down and sighed. Something about Nami’s words seemed right, even if they were a bit corny.

The thing was that Sanji knew he was attracted to Zoro deep down—not that he’d ever admit it, even to himself. Long ago he’d had similar stirrings for a number of Baratie chefs, around the same time he’d discovered girls. At the time he’d simply not registered it as attraction. Then, as soon as it had become apparent upon his first encounter with Roronoa Zoro that the desires he’d felt as a youth were not just a pubescent curiosity, he’d stamped them down with a ferocity that was usually only reserved for the most heinous of adversaries.

Still, doing so didn’t quell the hunger that was bubbling beneath the surface. Sanji didn’t dare arouse it consciously though; it was bad enough that it writhed every time the swordsman took his shirt off, like it had earlier today.

Now that had been a sight.

The swordsman’s hulking form hunched over slightly as he lifted the huge weight over and over again, making his muscular form pulse with every movement. Zoro’s brow was knitted, his green eyes demonic with determination.

As if on cue, Sanji’s cock twitched.

Sanji shook his head and looked away from the point on the floor he’d been staring at mindlessly and, feeling the strange sensation that he was about to have a panic attack or something, stood, and ran his hands through his hair. This wouldn’t do. He walked over to the cupboard and pulled his packet of tobacco, his filters and a box of papers out. Rolling his cigarettes up always made him feel a little calmer. As he sat at the table, he wrestled with the prospect of bringing up... whatever the hell this thing was with the swordsman. A part of him wanted to just get it out of the open so it wasn't bearing down on his psyche so much, while another seethed with humiliation at the idea. 

He’d barely started his third roll-up when he heard the galley door click open.

“Jesus!” Sanji snapped, clutching his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Sorry _Grandma_. Didn’t realise you were still in here,” he mumbled, and walked over to the table where Sanji was sat. “Forgot this,” he said, grabbing the neck of a bottle that was apparently still partially full and shaking it before turning heel.

“You’re going to bed with that?” Sanji asked, licking the seal of his roll-up.

“Yep,” Zoro replied. “G’night.”

“That’s really bad for your teeth, y’know,” Sanji quipped as he sealed his cigarette up.

Zoro sighed as he stopped and turned to face the other man. “What are you bellyaching about now?” he asked after pulling the bottle away from his lips.

“Drinking before bed without brushing your teeth… do you know how much sugar is in that shit? It’s mead,” Sanji explained, and then sniffed.

“Hah?” Zoro asked.

Sanji rolled his eyes and turned to face the other man. “Mead is made from honey.”

Zoro looked at him blankly.

“Honey… has sugar in it,” Sanji said slowly, like he was talking to a very small child. “Sugar… bad for teeth.”

Shaking his head, Zoro chuckled. “Are you seriously lecturing me about my dental hygiene when you smoke like a damn chimney? Do you have any idea what that shit does to your teeth?” he asked, pointing to the cigarette hanging out of the cook’s mouth.

Sanji glanced down at the cigarettes which were lined up on the table before him. Well, the Marimo did have a point, actually.

“Besides, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve drunk myself into a coma and I’ve still got all my teeth,” Zoro reasoned, and gave the cook a toothy grin to prove his point.

“And when did you last go to the dentist?” Sanji asked, his tongue licking along the edge of another roll up. He didn’t miss the way Zoro’s eyes flicked down to his mouth.

“Why the fuck are we talking about dental hygiene right now? I want to go to sleep.” Zoro sighed, and took another swig of his drink.

“I’m not stopping you,” Sanji murmured.

“So you don’t want to fight, then?” the swordsman asked.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Not all disputes have to be solved by fighting,” he deadpanned.

Zoro snorted. “I beg to differ.”

Shaking his head, Sanji began to file his cigarettes away into the silver case he carried in his pocket.

“Besides, what ‘dispute’ are you talking about?”

There was a moment before Sanji took a deep breath and replied. “I was just wondering if you made a habit out of molesting drunk people,” Sanji quipped.

Because of course, there was only one way to broach any given subject with the swordsman, and that was by being as confrontational and combative about it as humanly possible.

“Eh?”

“The other night at that island… you took me home when I was drunk,” the cook said with a glare as he stood and shoved his cigarettes into the pocket of his jacket, which was slung over the bench.

Rolling his eyes, Zoro sighed dramatically. “Well fuck me for giving a shit. I just dragged you home because you were about to pass out. I didn’t fucking _molest_ you, you big drama queen,” he snapped. “Besides, you’ve only got yourself to blame. If you could hold your drink better, you wouldn’t throw up half as much as you do every time you decide to get hammered and _I_ wouldn’t end up having to make sure you don’t choke to death.”

“I don’t mean that! I mean… hugging me and shit. What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t fucking know! I was even more wasted than you were!”

“You ran your hands through my hair!” Sanji countered. “And you were touching my face while I was lying on the couch... my… my lips,” he finished, trying to remain antagonistic but still blushing slightly.

Zoro stared at him, dumbstruck, but the slight pinkness to his cheeks that was a telltale sign that Sanji wasn’t the only one who’d retained those particular memories. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, with a marked lack of venom in his tone than before.

“Yes you do,” Sanji replied, smirking. _‘I got you now, bastard,’_ he thought. It was spiteful and he knew it, knew that Zoro was probably just as embarrassed at the memory as he was, but he couldn’t stand to feel like dirt under the other man’s gaze all the time and he wanted to spit some venom back into Zoro’s eyes for a change. “When you brought me back… I was on the couch downstairs and you stroked my hair. I could feel you.”

Zoro had turned away from him.

“Don’t turn your back on me!” Sanji snapped.

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” the swordsman yelled, whipping around. “I was drunk and stupid! If you feel like I violated you or something, then—”

“That’s not it,” Sanji replied.

“Then what?! What are you trying to get out of this conversation? Because if you’re just gunning for a fight, then, well,  you know as well as I do that we fight better with our bodies than we do with words, so why don’t you just try to kick my head in like you always do?”

“Because it’s too easy, Zoro,” Sanji said.

“Jesus Christ! What’s too damn easy?” Zoro looked like he wanted to slash something badly. Probably Sanji’s face, if the cook had to guess.

“Fighting to prove there’s nothing else going on between us!” There, he’d said it. He was on the verge of hyperventilating, but he’d crossed that line now and it was done.

Zoro stared at Sanji in confusion. For a long, tense moment, they simply stood and stared at each other.

“What—”

“I tried to tell myself it was nothing. But all the bravado, all the time… you never go out of your way to kick anyone else’s ass, do you? Not Nami—as if I’d let you—even though you owe her god-knows how much money now. Not Luffy when he drives you crazy—I’ve never seen you take to anyone as violently as you did to me when we first met. I don’t even know what your problem with me is, yet we fight almost every day!”

“I don’t like you because you’re annoying! You let the girls walk all over you and it’s embarrassing to watch. You could be so much stronger—”

“I am strong!” Sanji interrupted. He swallowed a lump in his throat; Zoro was getting closer to hitting a nerve now, and he was determined not to cry about it. Not in front of this asshole.

“—but instead you’re this sad, whimpering, desperate sap who wouldn’t dare to fight anyone with tits, even if she’s trying to kill you or one of us. It makes me sick.”

“So? Why do you care?” Sanji growled.

Zoro shook his head in annoyance. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Sanji. Like, maybe your bullshit about chivalry has its flaws and I’ve seen the effects of them first hand. It might surprise you to know that not everything comes down to sex and romance.”

“’My bullshit about chivalry’—as if you don’t have your own ridiculous code of honour,” Sanji sneered.

“It’s the swordsman’s way,” Zoro replied. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “So what’s so bad about my code? Why is it alright for you to pull that line and not me? Maybe I have my reasons for having that code, just like you have yours.”

“Because… because mine is different. It’s right,” Zoro said, folding his arms.

“How?” Sanji snapped, exasperated with the swordsman’s density.

“Because—because you think girls are so damn weak!” Zoro replied. “And don’t try and deny it because you know it’s true. You see them as these perfect little damsels who can’t do anything for themselves but you know what? They can! They just think they can’t because guys like you tell them they’ll never be strong enough and they should just let you fight their battles for them—”

“I—” Sanji wanted to argue with him, but Zoro’s words resonated with a part of him which knew there to be some truth in them.

“—all so you can fuel some pathetic ego trip and feel good about yourself. It’s bullshit.” Zoro spat, scowling at the cook.

It was silent for a few minutes before Sanji replied. “But why do you care? It’s not like you’re a girl,” he mumbled feebly, irritated with how petulant he sounded.

“Like I said, you wouldn’t understand,” Zoro snapped, turning away from the cook and straightening up.

Sanji glared at the swordsman as he slammed his empty bottle down on the counter and turned to leave. “Oi, hang on a sec. We’re not done talking,” he grunted. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Zoro sighed in annoyance. “What fucking question?” he asked.

“Why’d you touch my hair?”

Zoro sighed. “Honestly? I don’t remember. I was probably about to fall over or something and your stupid hair was the closest thing to grab hold of.”

“Now who’s talking bullshit?” Sanji scoffed, crossing his arms.

“What do you want me to say?” Zoro was peering at him curiously now. It made Sanji’s belly do a somersault. “’Cause it seems to me like you want me to say something else.”

“I just know bullshit when I hear it,” the cook snapped.

Zoro stepped closer to him. “Oh yeah? I’ll remember that the next time Nami tries to use your constant fawning to her advantage.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh, I see. So you _like_ being taken for a ride.” He took another step closer to the blond. “Some masochistic streak you’ve got there, shit-cook.”

“I just think a lady like her should be given the best she can possibly ask for, and she’s not afraid to ask for it,” Sanji replied, jutting his chin up haughtily.

“Pfft. I hate to break it to you, cook, but she’s no lady.” Another step forward.

Sanji pushed down his offence on behalf of their navigator and pushed for answers once more. “Answer the damn question,” he ground out.

“Alright,” Zoro murmured. He was standing toe to toe with the cook now, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes that intimidated Sanji at the same time it made his cock twitch. “I touched your precious little hair. Happy?”

 “Why?” Sanji asked.

“Because I wanted to.”

Sanji was silent for a beat, his heart thudding against his rib cage. “How can you just—say that!” he yelled, confused and increasingly upset.

“Because I don’t waste my time on pleasantries. I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?” Sanji asked.

Zoro didn’t reply; he just looked away from the other man. He looked slightly taken aback by the question, as though he’d just tried to call the other man’s bluff and hadn’t got the response he’d expected.

“Zoro,” Sanji prompted.

“Nothing,” he murmured, and turned to leave. “You should never have brought it up.”

Sanji shook his head and reached out to grab the swordsman’s arm, turning him to face him once again. “Why not?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Zoro snapped. His cheeks were a bit pink.

Smirking, Sanji breathed out a short laugh. “Not so brave now, are you?” he laughed. “Coward.”

At this, something in Zoro’s demeanour turned sharply. Sanji heard the clink of Zoro’s sword just in time to dodge the blade that swung at his face. So, he wanted to fight it out, did he? Well, Sanji was just fine with that.

He bent over backwards to dodge the swordsman’s blade and used his position to flip into a handstand. His long legs almost grazed the ceiling with this clumsy manoeuvre, but he recovered from the minor hiccup by using his signature move to kick Zoro in the side. But Zoro dodged him; Sanji flipped back onto his feet just in time to dodge the blade which was swung at his midriff and then brought his leg down swiftly onto the swordsman’s shoulder. Apparently the other man had not expected it—he buckled under the force of Sanji’s powerful kick, growled, and then swung Yubashiri at him hard. As the cook dodged it again, he drew Sandai Kitetsu swung it at Sanji’s shoulder.

Zoro smirked as he saw what he’d done. Sanji had just barely dodged the swing of the sword’s blade and it had sliced a wisp of hair from the side of his head. Its blade was now lodged in the wooden wall of the galley while Yubashiri was pressing against the cook’s ribs on his other side, more or less trapping him.

“What was that?” Zoro asked, his face only inches from the blond’s.

Sanji was panting harshly and glaring spitefully at the swordsman with his one visible eye. “I said you’re a coward!” he spat, before ducking under Zoro’s arm and twisting his body until he was able to draw a hard kick into his lower back.

Letting out a strangled noise, Zoro stumbled into the various crates and sacks that were piled up near the table, his swords clattering to the ground noisily. Sanji smirked and straightened himself out.

“Bastard,” Zoro growled, picking himself up.

Stepping closer, Sanji flattened the swordsman against the crates with his foot between his shoulder blades and chuckled nastily. “You think you can look down at me like I’m dirt? Like I’m a weakling?” he asked lowly. “I’m trying here, asshole, and all you can think to do is—”

But Sanji didn’t get to finish his sentence. Zoro had twisted beneath him, grabbed Yubashiri and swung its hilt at Sanji’s ankle. A searing pain shot up his leg, over his calf and his knee, from the tender pressure point the other man had just struck him in.

“Argh!” he grunted, grimacing as his leg buckled. Fucking swordsman had just taken him by surprise, but it didn’t stop him from toppling down to his knees and releasing the other man in the process. Barely a moment seemed to pass before Zoro was gripping his katana properly again and forcing Sanji down onto the huge sack of rice below them. But Sanji was fast too; he twisted his body around just enough to launch a heel kick at Zoro’s hand, knocking the sword to the floor with a clatter once again.

“Ah—fucker,” Zoro grunted over the sound of shuffling and knocking against the wood. He went to grab Wado, but Sanji’s hand grabbed him and was trying to pin him against the crate behind him with considerable strength.

Panting, Sanji grunted as he aimed kick after kick at the other man, who only twisted and shuffled out of his grasp. It was no use; he’d already lost his footing and Zoro’s left knee was firmly on the galley floor below them, giving him the advantage. Their legs tangled and Zoro stared down at him with his teeth bared and his eyes aflame with rage. Sanji stared back at him with similar intensity, but Zoro was pinning his hands above his head and the cook could do nothing to wriggle out of his grasp. All Zoro had to was pull one hand away from where they were locked around his wrists to draw Wado, and the fight would be finished… if he could just get his foot against that crate—

There was an awkward movement of the cook’s leg as he shifted, and suddenly their crotches were pressed flush together in the tight, awkward space.

Zoro let out a sharp exhale and Sanji grunted lightly. But to their mutual surprise, neither of them jerked away as expected. Zoro’s eyes caught his; flashing green under his sharp brow and leaving Sanji dazed momentarily at the heat that seemed to have overcome him. It was different to before… Zoro’s eyes were always sharp and piercing, but this time his eyes seemed… darker somehow. Still, neither of them moved. Instead, they held each other’s gazes as though they were each challenging the other to pull away first.

Still holding Zoro’s gaze, Sanji gently slipped his hands out of Zoro’s loosened grasp. It travelled down tentatively; he brushed it against Zoro’s side just lightly enough for him to know that it wasn’t an attack. No, instead he settled his palm on the other man’s lower back and pulled him nearer. To his surprise, Zoro followed the movement and allowed himself to be drawn in by the cook’s gentle movement. At this, Sanji would’ve smirked had he his usual mental coherence to draw from; he was barely applying pressure to the other man’s body, so there was no way Zoro couldn’t have pushed him off and walked away had it been what he really wanted.

Emboldened, Sanji’s hand pressed lower, his eyes never leaving the swordsman’s. He gently guided his fingers further down his muscular back until his fingertips brushed the edge of his haramaki, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from beneath the garment, where he settled his hand for the time being. Then, jutting his chin up a little and watching the other man from beneath his blond eyelashes, he pushed Zoro’s hips towards him with a roll of his own.

The movement drew a sharp hiss from each of them. Like him, Zoro’s dick was tenting the fabric of his thin trousers. Sanji wondered if he ever wore underwear… glancing down, he could see the outline of his cock and he licked his lips at the sight of it pressed up against his own throbbing bulge.

Zoro, for his part, was still leaning over the cook domineeringly, and Sanji cursed himself for feeling a jolt of excitement course through him at the feeling of being so at the mercy of another man. Zoro was now bracing himself on either side of Sanji’s body, his palms pressing into the sack underneath them. The cook was sure what they were doing violated some kind of food hygiene rule, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care nor pull away. Zoro’s mouth was a firm line as he panted through his flared nostrils, as though keeping his mouth shut was a condition of some bizarre, masochistic training exercise.

Sanji gasped as Zoro suddenly pressed forward hard, and he bit his lip and stared back at the other man’s face as the other man rolled his hips one—two—three times, slowly and firmly, in a movement that dragged their aching cocks together through the strict confines of their clothes. Groaning, Sanji suddenly gripped his friend back hard, fisting the fabric of his t-shirt tightly as his other hand grabbed the back of his shoulder. Zoro let out a deep, rumbling noise, but he didn’t break their eye contact. He reached down and drew Wado’s scabbard out of its loop, and for a terrifying moment Sanji thought he was going to strike him with it. But he didn’t; he laid it down on the floor beside them and brought his lower lip between his teeth, pressed their bodies closer until they were chest to chest and Sanji could feel his heart fluttering against his own.

At the swordsman’s apparent acquiescence, it was as though the floodgates had opened. The hand that was on Zoro’s lower back shifted suddenly lower until it was under Zoro’s haramaki completely, and his long legs, which had been bent sharply on either side of the swordsman’s body, tightened around him. They tangled with Zoro’s own limbs, knotting them together and drawing them closer as they started to grind against each other with the same ferocity they had previously been sparring with.

“Oh fuck,” Sanji breathed and squeezed his eyes shut as his cock throbbed in the tight confines of his slacks.

Zoro let out a low, rough humming noise and began thrusting his hips back and forth with increasing vigour. Glancing up at his friend, Sanji felt an odd swell inside him at the sight of the other man’s usually stoic face reddened by arousal and, he suspected, more than a little bit of embarrassment. Sanji couldn’t find it within himself to feel smug about the other man’s state though, as he knew he was probably no better.

Instead, he let his hands slide beneath the other man’s shirt where his cool fingertips made his warm flesh shiver and prickle with goosebumps. He sighed and buried his face in Zoro’s neck, inhaling the scent of soap, sweat and sea, and squeezed his eyes shut, determined just to enjoy the moment and not think of how this experience was going to tear him up inside later or how it was going to change his relationship with his rival.

Another jolt of pleasure shot up his body from his crotch, where Zoro was now frotting against him with an animalistic pace and letting out short, sharp moans with every movement. Sanji moaned as he arched his spine in pleasure, spreading his legs wide and shoving one hand between them where he unbuttoned his slacks and fumbled to pull Zoro’s khakis down at the same time. With a soft moan, Zoro reached down to help him, hands brushing together, and soon they were both freed from the confines of their clothes.

They both let out blissful, relieved moans as their bare dicks came into contact with each other for the first time. Sanji could feel that one or both of them was leaking precum, but he didn’t really care to look—strangely, he was more turned on by the uncertainty, as though the ambiguity spurred on the merger of their bodies in some kind of curious alchemy. Zoro was not so inclined; instead, he glanced down between them and grabbed Sanji’s shirt to yank it up harshly, presumably so that he could get a glimpse of the cook’s dick between their bodies. It twisted around the middle of his torso and Sanji almost gasped at the animalistic look Zoro was giving him, but instead he pulled the thin fabric of his t-shirt up a bit so their arousals were trapped between the heaving mass of their bodies.

The feel of skin on skin seemed to awaken something hidden deep in the pair of them, and Sanji let out a slightly louder moan as he felt every drag of Zoro’s abdomen against his dick. Something strong, yet tender inside of him came to life at the feel of Zoro’s cock against his own, like he wasn’t quite prepared for how much he enjoyed feeling the other man’s heavy, thick length against his. His body, however, instinctively knew what it wanted.

“Shit,” Zoro gasped as they began frotting in earnest now, stirred on it seemed by the sight he’d glimpsed of the pair of them touching each other in the most intimate way. Sanji let out a long moan as he felt his cock drag over Zoro’s incredible muscles again and again, the movement slicked by their precum and the sweat that’d been generated by the vigour of their lunging and thrusting.

“Oh, fuck—Zoro,” he panted, his eyes closed and his brow knitted in ecstasy. He opened his eyes to look at the swordsman properly and he was shocked to see the lust on his face as he stared back at him and rammed their bodies together over and over again. Their faces were so close that the air between them was stuffy and wet, and as Sanji drove his fingernails into the other man’s back he could only pant and moan for more. He felt one of Zoro’s hands leave his side and reach down to grab one of his thighs, and he gasped as he felt his fingers begin exploring his muscles through his pants firmly.

Moaning, he brought Zoro’s contorted face even closer to his with one palm against the back of his neck. They didn’t kiss; instead, Zoro brought their foreheads flush until their noses mashed together in the cramped space. Sanji was letting out slightly high pitched moans as he stared up at the other man, embarrassed by the desperation that was no doubt etched upon his face.

Zoro, for his part, closed his eyes as they panted into the tiny space between them, their lips brushing ever so slightly but not quite kissing. It was almost as though he was swallowing every sound that came from the cook’s lips. “Sanji—” he panted, and brought the hand that had been caressing his leg up to his hair. Sanji felt it thread through his locks, felt the press of Zoro’s fingertips against his scalp as their bodies crashed into each other and the things below them jostled with their movements. He could hear the chime of Zoro’s earrings with each movement over the sound of something falling to the floor behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Suddenly, he felt the beginnings of orgasm pull at him. He let out a sharp hiss and groan, and the way his hips jerked faster and faster against the man above him told Zoro everything he needed to know. The swordsman slid one hand between them, putting all his weight on the cook’s chest, and covered both of their dicks with his large hand.

“Oh, fuck, Zoro, I’m—” he whimpered, his eyes screwed shut as he panted and moaned as sparks flew in his body. Zoro’s clumsy hand movements were pulling ecstasy from him and it only took a final few rough strokes of his hand for Sanji to go soaring over the edge. He let out a guttural moan as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over his body with an intensity he’d never felt before. No, this was unlike anything else he’d ever experienced; this satisfied a part of him which had been starving for attention for longer than Sanji could remember.

It was only a matter of seconds before Zoro was following him, covering his abdomen with his own release. It mixed with Sanji’s cum on their bellies as he let out primal grunts and growls which rumbled in his throat like thunder. Their faces were etched with euphoria as their hips crashed into each other a final few times; the pair of them panting punched-out breaths and moaning softly as their orgasms spilled out of them.

For a few stunned minutes they laid there, breathless and dazed at the intensity of their unexpected union. Zoro had buried his face into his neck, where he was now panting slightly less labouredly. Sanji head had slumped back down against the sack below him, his eyes closed and his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he panted and swallowed.

As Sanji slowly regained his bearings, he wondered if he’d ever have an experience like that with a woman. Maybe, he thought, but whatever he’d just had with Zoro seemed a lot more intense and fulfilling than any other encounter he’d had in his nineteen years. A line had been crossed; not just between him and the swordsman, but somewhere within his own being, too. For now though, it didn’t seem like he’d quite registered all of it yet. He started as he felt Zoro sit up, and cringed slightly as he felt the odd sensation of their slick bellies pulling away from one another.

“Ugh…” Sanji said with a grimace. The warmth they had generated was interrupted with a cool waft of air which stirred him out of his post-coital reverie.

Zoro didn’t look particularly perturbed by the mess, but he did look more embarrassed than Sanji had ever seen him before. “Um—” Zoro mumbled.

“Get off,” Sanji snapped quietly, his cheeks rosy with orgasm and shame. When Zoro got to his knees, Sanji stood and, holding up the waistband of his slacks to cover his crotch, walked awkwardly over to the counter for a roll of paper towels. His heart thumping, he tore off a few sheets for himself and made a quick job of cleaning himself up before he hastily refastened his pants, his fingers fumbling nervously. Then, he carried the roll of paper towels over to where a rather stupefied Zoro was still kneeling, his haramaki at an odd angle about his hips, his (rather large, Sanji noted) cock still hanging out of his pants and his shirt twisted around his torso, and tossed it at him.

“Get dressed,” Sanji snapped, his face beet red.

Zoro was scratching his head, dumbfounded. When Sanji tossed the roll at him, he jumped, quickly tucked himself away and cleaned himself off, before he stood and straightened out his clothes. Sanji slumped down onto a chair and lit up a cigarette as he watched Zoro collect his katanas from the floor. He was staring at a spot on the ground dazedly, cigarette limp between his fingers, as Zoro finished tidying himself up.

The soft click of Zoro’s swords being hilted away startled him out of his trance.

Zoro scratched the back of his head and then turned to the cook as if he wanted to say something, but settled for nodding his head once without making eye contact with the blond and then turned to leave. Sanji stared after him, watched him until the galley door swung shut and Zoro’s head disappeared behind the small window.

He sat there for a long while after that, replaying what exactly had happened. He decided to stay long enough for Zoro to fall asleep so they wouldn’t have to acknowledge each other. By the time he left, the ashtray was almost full.

*

Sanji woke early the next day feeling an odd mix of emotions. A part of him wondered if last night had been some strange dream. He was certainly tired, for one thing; he’d taken forever to drift off despite the fatigue brought on by—well, yes, _that_ , and even then he'd had a rather fitful sleep. There was also the strange feeling that some huge weight had just rolled off his back, though what was left underneath in its wake was something he wasn’t quite sure of yet.

He worried his lip between his teeth thoughtfully as he sliced the fruit for that morning’s breakfast. It wasn’t like him to be nervous, but he’d never been in a situation like this before. Considering that he and Zoro were often not on the best of terms even on a good day, seeing each other for the first time after their sudden roll in the hay (or rice sacks, as it were) was sure to be the awkward experience to end all awkward experiences.   

With a sigh, he paused in his movements to check on the pancakes. He glanced over his shoulder as he flipped them over when he heard Chopper plod in, yawning widely. He smiled at the doctor and made up his breakfast quietly, knowing that he must be hungry from the early morning watch duty. Chopper returned his smile as he set the plate down in front of him.

“So you get a chance to actually eat something before the bottomless pit rolls out of his hammock,” he said.

“Thanks,” Chopper mumbled.

It wasn’t long after this that the girls filed in with Carue. Sanji had made them both special breakfasts as usual, but he didn’t really have the energy for his usual swooning.

“Where are the others?” he asked as he sat down with his own food.

“Zoro’s on watch duty ‘til noon,” Chopper replied. “Then it’s your turn after lunch, right?”

Sanji glanced behind him at the rota on the wall. “Yeah,” he mumbled. So he had some time to figure out if he wanted to go and speak to the Marimo or just pretend that nothing had happened, then…

A short while later they were joined by Usopp and Luffy, which ended the quiet early morning peace that had settled over them. Sanji had already finished eating, so he made their breakfasts up for them (with extra for Luffy, of course), then lit up a cigarette and made his way out to the deck.

The sea was slightly rough today, but it was nothing Sanji wasn’t used to. For a moment, he simply closed his eyes and inhaled the smoke, listened to the crash of the waves against the hull, and tried to ignore the burning temptation to glance up at the crow’s nest for a glimpse of the swordsman.

How the hell was he going to think himself out of this one? He was desperate to believe that he had imagined the whole thing, that it had just been some nocturnal fantasy that was a product of not having got laid since he was at the Baratie. He longed for the time not so long ago when he’d just been a skinny, mischievous sixteen year old in a suit that was far too big for him, trying to charm the many affluent (and usually married) women who came to dine at the famous floating restaurant into his bed. Even though he’d failed in his attempts at sexual and romantic conquest more often than not, he had felt so comfortable in himself and his sexuality; cocky even. There was no way he could have marred such a finely perfected technique with the torrid encounter he’d had with their _very_ male first mate last night. It just wasn’t possible for that brute to ruin Sanji’s refinement—of course it wasn’t! Sanji loved women. He loved their curves and their breasts and their adorable, high pitched laughs, and no amount of experience with another man was going to make him anything other than what he’d always believed himself to be.    

…But in his heart he knew that this wasn’t completely true; he couldn’t deny the not-so-unpleasant way Zoro’s hard, strong form had felt against his body, nor the intense ache of his cock in the swordsman’s hand or the luxuriant pressure of the other man’s stiff, throbbing length against his abdomen. Nor could he deny the mind-shattering pleasure Zoro had given him with what was really just an awkward fumble. He could still smell him now; a strong, musky scent that Sanji just knew was going to linger on his mind like the smell of some punchy spice in the galley.

With a sigh, he conceded that he had to be honest with himself here, even if for no other reason than his own sanity.

Swallowing nervously, Sanji allowed his thoughts to apprehensively toe the line into the territory he’d been so valiantly trying to erase… It was clearer than ever in that moment that his unfounded confidence in his complete heterosexuality was preferable to this uneasy, dawning realisation that maybe he was not the poker straight knight in shining armour he’d so tenaciously tried to be. No, there was no going back from what had happened last night.

“Shit!” he gasped as he felt a singe on his fingers. His cigarette had burned down to the butt and caught his skin. He tossed it overboard spitefully, as though the thing had offended him. He patted himself down for another smoke and once he’d lit it, he gave into his temptation and glanced up at the crow’s nest. Zoro was looking out over the horizon with Usopp’s binoculars.

Sanji worried his lip between his teeth and tapped on the railing of the ship as he hesitated for a moment. Then, he pushed off from the railings and returned to the galley to fix the Marimo some breakfast. He tied the plate up with a cloth and held the knot of it between his teeth as he climbed the ladder to the crow’s nest with a flask of coffee in his jacket pocket.

Zoro didn’t look up at him as he surfaced; he just leaned against the edge of the railing on his forearms and stared out over the water.

“Breakfast,” Sanji murmured, and placed Zoro’s food down on the floor by the mast.

“I’m not hungry, thanks,” Zoro replied quietly.

Sanji sighed. “Zoro, we have to—”

“No, we don’t,” he grunted, still not looking at the other man.

Furrowing his brow, Sanji’s eyes flared with anger. “Yes, we do, whether you like it or not. We can’t just ignore what happened last night.”

“I beg to—”

“—differ, yeah I know,” Sanji interrupted. “But I don’t care what you want right now. You might be able to sleep at night pretending that nothing happened and that everything’s fine, but I can’t.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Asshole!” Sanji yelled, hurt at the other man’s cavalier dismissal. “You don’t get to just—use me like that and cast me aside like I’m nothing. I know what we’re not exactly best pals around here, but we’re nakama whether you like it or not, and that means we look after each other.”

Sanji let out a shaky breath as he watched Zoro let out a sigh and rub his forehead in defeat. Then, finally, he turned around.

“Look… I don’t know what to say about last night. I didn’t—I didn’t think you were… like that,” he began, arms folded tightly and looking very uncomfortable. Sanji pushed down his sympathy.

“I didn’t really know either,” the cook replied, feeling very self-conscious but continuing regardless. “I didn’t think…I mean, I wondered if I was but… I never thought I’d—” he trailed off.

Zoro sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Maybe we don’t need to say anything,” Sanji replied. “Maybe… maybe we can just feel our way with this… see what happens?”

Shaking his head, Zoro glanced up at Sanji with a flat gaze. His green eyes had dimmed and looked like slate. “No, Sanji. It can’t—we can’t,” he mumbled.

It felt like Zoro had just dropped a cinder block on his heart. It was as surprising to Sanji how much the rejection hurt as it was devastating. Sanji tried to keep the hurt out of his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t. It had been futile in the past and it was futile now.

“I’m sorry about what happened. I really am—not just for your sake, but for mine. I don’t need—I don’t _want_ anything like that in my life,” Zoro continued. “I don’t know what you were expecting, but please try to understand.”

Over the other man’s shoulder, pastel green waves swelled and shattered over and over again, and the ship rocked and creaked with the undulations of the sea. The wind was coarse this high up, and the cook’s hair ruffled in it while Zoro’s earrings chimed. The sky on the horizon was tense like steel; more rain was on its way.

Sanji blinked tears out of his eyes and looked away from the other man. “I don’t know how you think that’s going to work,” he croaked, rubbing at his eye with his sleeve.

“Hm?” Zoro was giving him a pitying look.

“I said, I don’t know how you think that’s going to work,” he repeated, louder this time and with more determination in his voice. Somehow though, he knew the conversation was already over.

Zoro was silent.

“There’s no way either of us are going to be able to stand being around each other when we’ve—when we’ve had sex,” he finished, his cheeks a bit pink at the admission, “and I don’t know how you think we’re going to be able to hide it from everyone else. The girls already know something’s up.”

“We’re just going to have to try, Sanji,” the swordsman replied. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

“There’s plenty we can do,” the cook replied. “You just don’t want to try.”

Zoro looked at him gravely. “Exactly.”

The cigarette filter was squashed between his teeth as Sanji’s heartbreak snapped and gave way to a flood of anger.

“I guess I was right, then,” he spat, his voice slightly shaky with sobs that were bubbling in his throat.

Zoro looked at him questioningly.

“You really are a coward.”

With that, Sanji spat his cigarette overboard with a vicious glare at the other man, and descended the ladder to the deck.


End file.
